


Tomorrow's Wind Will Blow

by Sportscandycollective



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Aggressive Use of Oranges, Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Magic, Apologies, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bubble Bath, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Confessions, Dreams, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Episodic Progression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fae Robbie Rotten, Familiars, First Crush, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Forests, Heartbreak, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Investigations, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Wings, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Moral Dilemmas, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Realization, Recreational Drug Use, Regret, Rejection, Secret Crush, Slow Burn, Violence, Wings, Witches, Young Love, children in peril, eventual angst, no the author wasn't on drugs with chapter 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 185,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sportscandycollective/pseuds/Sportscandycollective
Summary: An AU where Sportacus is a witch and Robbie is a fae, inspired heavily by the works of Hayao Miyazaki.Robbie has lived quietly and peacefully for some time in LazyTown, keeping away from most of the town's residents and spending his days trying to do as little as possible. But when a witch's familiar arrives in town, Robbie is forced to face both his past and reconsider his opinion on witches.NOTICE: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ONTO OTHER WEBSITES.





	1. Winds in the East

**Author's Note:**

> This fic's title is up to change, since I'm not sure I like the title lol.

The sound of a crow squawking woke Robbie from his sleep.

He stirred, groaning as he stretched his limbs up above his head, which made an audible and all too disconcerting _crack_ as his arms moved themselves back into a respectable position. Immediately afterwards, they flopped over his head, letting themselves grow heavy as Robbie slipped back to sleep.  
“ _Not ready. Not yet. Five more minutes_.” Thought Robbie as he yawned widely. He let his eyelids slowly drag down, his mind happily crawling back into whatever scattered and less involved dream he was having before he was so rudely awoken.  
“ _Squawk!_ ”  
Robbie groaned, and took his pillow out from under his head. He pressed its cottony surface harshly against his ears, hoping to drown out his unfortunate house guest/alarm clock. He dragged his knees up into his chest, the blanket following suit and tangling itself around his torso. He sighed and slipped back into unconsciousness.  
“ _SQUAWK_!”  
“Fine! Fine, I’m up! Now shove a cork in it, you stupid chicken!” growled Robbie, as he hurled his spare pillow up blindly at the rafters. The pillow struck weakly at the bottom beam, earning only a half-second flutter from the avian creature, who simply shifted its feet and preened its feathers after determining that the lanky man had no sense of aim and couldn’t dream of actually hitting it with the downy pillow.  
Robbie grunted annoyedly and propped himself up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. His gaze drifted to the clock on the side of his end table. 2:00 p.m. About the time he usually woke up. As he swung his legs over to get up and dressed, he took a step forward and clumsily tumbled onto the floor, his tangled blankets deciding to take lessons from Poodle’s shoelaces for the day. Robbie angrily dragged himself back up, wrestling with his tangled blankets for his freedom. Yup, he could already tell that today was terrible, and he’d barely gotten out of bed.

He skulked over to his closet and pulled out his usual outfit: dark-purple button-up shirt, a maroon and purple striped vest, black trousers, a pair of black thick-rimmed glasses, and his signature white and black dress shoes. He took in a deep breath, holding his clothing close, before he spun himself rapidly in place, sparks of bright purple magic jolting off his body as he did. When he finally spun to a stop, his clothing had swapped places. He now held his pajamas in his hands and wore his everyday outfit. He tossed his pajamas into his rapidly filling laundry hamper. He’d make time for laundry later. He strode over to his kitchen, his arms swinging limply in front of him. Pulling open his refrigerator, he decided on pop-tarts for breakfast. He stopped only long enough to question why he’d decided to store his toaster pastries in his refrigerator. A look at his kitchen counter, which was littered with discarded bottles of cider, gave him a hint of an answer. Ah, late night drunchies. His for whatever reason almost always led him to his beloved pop-tart stash, which often resulted in them being stored all over the house as he stumbled about trying to put everything in order after a night of self-medicated drinking.  
Holding onto one pop-tart with his mouth, Robbie tore off his to-do list from the wall. He glanced down at the list. Looks like he had another order of blouses and jackets to deliver at Bessie’s shop, and he needed to do grocery shopping. A relaxed enough day, though considering how he felt that afternoon it all still felt very much like too much to do. Chowing down on one strudel, Robbie laid the other pop-tart on top of the towering pile of clothing he’d just made. Bessie said something about how spring was the time for pastels and, despite Robbie loathing that tone of colors, had placed a large order for pastel colored clothing for Robbie to make. Thus, he had a rather large tower of blouses and jackets sewn in baby food green, baby pink, sky blues, and lemonade yellow. To Robbie, it looked like an Easter Sunday church service had thrown up on his fabrics. With a shake of his head and a sigh, he shook off his own opinions and distaste for the color scheme and hoisted the fabrics onto a little red wagon he’d bought from a yard sale.

He took another bite from his second pop-tart as he opened his front door. Before he left he shot a dirty look at his unwelcome house guest, who sat on the rafters eying some crumbs on the kitchen counter.  
“Don’t you even think about getting into my sweets stash again, or I’ll have you stuffed.” Robbie said with a glare.  
The crow simply warbled and squawked in response.  
Robbie rolled his eyes and slammed the door behind him.

\--

The sun that afternoon was uncomfortably blinding and the sky was a bright blue color, almost the same color as the hideous blouses that Robbie carted across town. He speedily walked past a gaggle of children, who were all snickering around a brand-new chemistry set, which was rapidly beginning to spill its contents all over the sidewalk.  
“Now add the final component!” coaxed a girl with pigtails. Robbie didn’t know her name, but had heard someone call her…Tricky? Pixie? He didn’t really care.  
“A-Are you sure? It looks like it’s about to burst already!” said a blonde boy covered in sticky taffies and lollipops.  
The pigtailed girl grinned. “I’m more than sure. Now do it!”  
The blonde kid dumped a vial of sickly green liquid into the burbling, orange solution. Instantly the mixture began to glow, before erupting its contents all over the sidewalk with a sharp pop, the sound similar to a firecracker.  
Robbie jumped and made a girly shriek. He collected himself as he heard the children giggle behind some trashcans. He glared at the kids, before shaking his head and continuing on his way.  
“Noisy brats, can’t they just stay inside or something?” he muttered to himself.

He came around the corner and finally arrived at his destination. For many years now he had a long-standing partnership with Busybody Boutique, the only high-end clothing store in LazyTown, run by Bessie Busybody herself. She apparently opened the shop a few years before Robbie arrived, using the money she earned from her pre-nuptial agreement to buy out the property and refurbish the old building into a chic boutique of her own design. To Robbie, the store was a gaudy eyesore made with bright blues, accented with hot pinks, and a cluttered window display. But the people of LazyTown, most notably the mothers, liked to frequent the shop so Robbie assumed Bessie was doing something right.  
The chime went off as Robbie opened the door, wheeling in his delivery of clothes. Bessie, who was sitting behind the counter with a magazine in her hands, looked up and smiled at the appearance of the lanky fashion designer.  
“Oh, this is wonderful Robbie! Those blouses look absolutely divine! I’m certain everyone in town will just eat them up!” she gushed as she ran from around the counter and started immediately inspecting Robbie’s handiwork.  
“Well if they eat them, at least they’ll be good for _something_.” Robbie mumbled to himself with a smirk.  
“What did you say, dear?” asked Ms. Busybody.  
“Nothing, just talking to myself.” Robbie responded.  
Ms. Busybody, well, busied herself with stocking the shelves with the brand-new blouses and jackets, humming a happy tune to herself. Robbie stood awkwardly in the doorway. It didn’t appear that she wanted to talk or had anything more to say to him, so he quietly backed himself and the wagon out of the doorway.  
“Oh, Robbie, I wanted to ask you something. I’m throwing a party this evening and I was wondering if you – “Ms. Busybody began to say, until she noticed that Robbie had already left.  
She shook her head and sighed before casually returning to her spot behind the counter.

\--

Robbie ran a hand through his hair as he turned towards his next destination. In the distance, he could hear the kids from earlier screeching and laughing, probably playing some noisy game that he’d have to block out later. He tugged the wagon behind him, slightly drowning out their noise with the squeaking of its wheels. He often told himself that he had to oil its axel and wheels in the future, but given how effective it was at drowning out the children’s noises, it was almost a godsend to have, even if it only goaded on Robbie’s consistently present headache. He strode down the sidewalk, eyes glancing up momentarily at the sky. The sky was beginning to take on pink and purple hues, and the air around sun began to burn a bright orange. He drew his eyes away from the increasingly orange sky; that particular color often made his eyes burn. The day was already almost over. This fact would bother the average person, but not Robbie. No, his day usually started when it was already half over. The night was his sanctuary, a time of peace, silence, and solitude. A reprieve from the bustling noise and oppressive cheerfulness of this town’s particular atmosphere. Sure, his current routine often minimized just how much of LazyTown’s natural rhythm he had to interact with. But even the little he encountered on a day-to-day basis was far too much for him. It drained him, and left him even more tired and agitated than he usually was.

He was nearly knocked off his feet as a trio of colors rushed past him, the blurs rapidly shifting into the distinct forms of three children as they ran around the corner. Before Robbie got a moment to collect himself, his ears were assaulted by the sharp trill of a whistle being blown repeatedly right behind him. Turning around, he spotted Officer Obtuse, who was dashing down the lane.  
“Apologies, Mr. Rotten!” the policeman said quickly before picking up the pace, sprinting around the corner and yelling at the three children.  
“Hmph.” Robbie said, straightening out his vest as he continued along his route. He may not be a fan of the people of LazyTown, but he could at least appreciate the presence of Officer Obtuse. He seemed to be the only other person in LazyTown that got as frustrated with the children’s games and antics as much as Robbie did. Not to the same level, of course, but at least Obtuse had the authority to do something about those brats, unlike Robbie. Officer Obtuse didn’t have to grin and bear through their ploys.

Robbie stopped by the bakery, noting how he had run out of bread the other day. Tiny silver bells heralded his arrival as he opened the door. He took a moment to breathe in the delectable and warm smell of the bakery. Aside from his own house, the bakery was his favorite place to be in LazyTown. The only thing that marred the experience for him was the presence of the baker’s oafish and slacker son, who everyone knew as Jives. On a normal basis, Robbie could at least connect over their shared enjoyment of relaxation, messed up sleep schedules, and worshipping of junk food. But when it came to getting errands finished, Jives’ more laid-nature only increased Robbie’s frustration.  
As Robbie approached the counter, Jives tossed something pungent smelling into the trashcan and stood up straight, a silly grin crossing his face.  
“Robbie, my man! Good to see you! Seems like it’s been forever, dude.” The teen said enthusiastically.  
“I was here two days ago, Jives.” Robbie responded curtly.  
Jives nodded slowly, the smile never straying from his face. “Oh yeah, that’s true. Still dude, you’re like, so reclusive. Even when I see you, you like remain so stoic.” His eyes widened as he looked at Robbie with suspicion. “Are you, like, a secret agent or something? That why you like to be so isolated?” he asked in a near whisper.  
Robbie rolled his eyes and gestured to the trashcan. “If I were, I’m pretty sure I’d have gotten you for that a long time ago.”  
Jives’ eyes traced over to the trashcan, an enlightened look crossing his face. “Didn’t think about that. We’re cool on that, right?”  
“Not like you quitting that junk would make getting bread go any faster.” Robbie remarked sourly.  
Jives laughed and bobbed his head. “Heh, yeah that’s legit. What can I say, I like the laid-back approach? I think it puts customers in a good mood, makes them feel like they belong. Like there’s no strange, abstract system of…like barriers between me, the proprietor of this fine establishment, and them. You get what I’m saying, Robbie?”  
Robbie pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand laying down a bill. “Just get me the bread, Jives.”  
Jives gave him a thumbs-up. “Coming right up, my rotten man.” He noted with a snicker.

\--

Robbie shook his head exasperatedly as he finally left the bakery. Getting bread there was always such a time suck. Even after he’d given Robbie his bread and taken his money, Jives still insisted upon rambling about whatever his toasted mind could conceive or process at the moment. That day alone Jives ranted and debated the legitimacy of the capitalist system (while staunchly denying any potential that he was a communist), the potential for an afterlife, and where bread went after you put it in the toaster. Robbie could either care less, had no answers, or was so dumbfounded by the transition subject that he just buried his head in his hands and allowed the stoned teenager to go on his tangent. Mercifully, Robbie was able to slip away as Jives father walked into the main vestibule, ranting about the smell of weed in his shop.

Robbie quickly strode into the grocery store. He’d make this a quick shopping trip, considering how much time he lost at the bakery. He bought more pop-tarts, soda, cake mix, microwave dinners, and a six-pack of cider. Piling his haul into his wagon, Robbie started on his way home, the sky now completely that orange color that he loathed so much.  
As he passed by the park, however, he couldn’t help but pause as he noticed all of the children gathered around in a circle, crouching and looking at something on the ground. A little voice in Robbie’s head urged him to ignore whatever the brats were interested in. After all, considering that they were children, they could potentially be drawn to anything from something legitimately interesting to, he didn’t know, a particularly shiny bottle cap. What he knew was, the probability of a reward for indulging in his curious tendencies generally slanted towards the smaller percentages. Yet, this time, he felt drawn to whatever the kids were looking and cooing over. Previous data be darned, he was going to go look. He parked his wagon in front of an empty store front and strode over to the gaggle of children.  
“He’s so cute!” remarked one girl, completely adorned in pink.  
“I wonder where he came from?” asked another kid, a boy whose hair looked like it got caught in a cheesy snack factory explosion.  
“Stingy, stop trying to sneak him into your jacket pocket, he’s obviously not yours!” noted the pigtailed one.  
“Of course it’s MINE. I’m laying claim to it now, and none of you did before, so it’s MINE now.” Stingy responded.  
“But the ribbon! It must have an owner somewhere!” quipped the sticky blonde one.  
The kids stopped and looked up as Robbie drew closer. A few of the kids shrank back at the appearance of the reclusive man, whom they had taken to creating myths and stories about considering how little they knew about him. All they knew was he created clothing that Ms. Busybody sold in her shop, and how they seemed to make their mothers almost glow and shine as they walked. The only one to directly acknowledge Robbie’s presence was the pink girl, who stood up carefully and gave her best smile to the man.  
“Hi, Mr. Rotten!” she said cheerily.  
Robbie’s characteristic non-smile appeared, and he tersely responded with, “Evening, pink girl.”  
“Stephanie.” She reminded him gently. She pointed at the creature in the middle of the circle. “Is he yours? We just found him wandering around the park.

“I don’t even know what you kids are pointing at – “said Robbie, before he froze.  
Sitting in the middle of the circle of children, its attention snapping right at Robbie, was a slender black cat. Its fur was dark as pitch, almost dark enough to swallow the remaining sunlight that faded as the day concluded. Across its face was a collection of splotchy, white markings, making it look like someone had flicked paint onto its face. He also noticed two symmetrical white patches on its hackles, a strange marking characteristic he couldn’t remember seeing on a cat before. And just like the kids had said, a sky-blue ribbon was tied neatly around its neck.  
But what truly caught Robbie’s attention was the cat’s _eyes_. The cat had two differently colored eyes, one yellow like amber, the other an icy blue. And its eyes almost seemed to _shimmer_. And _glow_. Like its very soul, its essence, was brimming with an otherworldly power. One that drew the children’s attention towards it, and made the air around it simmer and waver. One that sent a shivering chill down Robbie’s spine, his own soul almost protesting its very presence. The cat blinked, a flash of blue briefly emitting from its whiskers. Only Robbie seemed to notice this anomalous form of communication. The cat licked its paw, cleaning its face gracefully as Robbie continued to just stare. The cat then gave one last look at Robbie, a slight…grin on its face? Could cats even really grin? The cat gave its unusual grin before it turned and smoothly slunk away, its tiny paws patting against the ground as it made its way towards the edge of town, running towards the surrounding forest.

The kids seemed distinctly disappointed as the cat vanished from view. They slowly drew themselves back up onto their feet. Stephanie turned to look at Robbie.  
“I’m guessing that’s not your cat then? Cause otherwise, we could go run after it and get it for you!” Stephanie asked in a friendly tone.  
Robbie blinked, snapping out of the strange trance the cat had lulled him into. His eyes darted up towards the forest, before he finally turned to Stephanie.  
“I’ve…I’ve got to go.” Robbie said hastily, before turning on his heel and rushing towards his home.

\--

He knew the moment he laid eyes on that feline that something was off about it. Originally, he couldn’t put a word to his thoughts, but as he laid against his door, he instantly knew what it was and why he felt worried.

That cat was no ordinary animal. It was someone’s _familiar_.

Only familiars could hold that immense amount of power and magic. A normal cat’s magical pattern was…weak, to say the least. Most normal animals, with some exceptions, had near non-existent magic essence. A familiar animal, however, held a particularly strong amount of magic. Which meant that even without their masters, they could disrupt or, as Robbie felt earlier, unsettle the current magic balance. Not in a malicious way, of course, but it still left Robbie’s stomach churning.

Because if a familiar was nearby, that meant its _witch_ was nearby too.

And a witch would mean bad news for someone like Robbie.

He sunk down to the floor, drawing his knees up into his chest. He burrowed his face into his legs, trying to calm himself down enough to rationally think through this potential situation. The crowing of his resident bird broke through each attempt to meditate on the perilous predicament in front of him. He glared at the crow, and snapped his fingers. A weak, purple spark jolted from his finger, and the crow squeaked and flapped its wings rapidly. Swirls of jet black feathers floated to the floor as one of its wings fell bald. Robbie smirked. His magic might be finicky, but he had just enough control to not only amuse himself,  but get himself through everyday mundanities and, of course, torment his unwelcome guest.

The amusing distraction seemed to help Robbie, as he found himself finally capable of thinking through his current situation. He laid his head against the door, his mind running around and collecting all the knowledge he had about witches which was, admittedly, not that much. All he knew about witches was what his mother had told him so many years ago. But what he did know was at least helpful, if not helpful to his increasing anxiety.  
He knew that witches had familiars (of course) that often helped with their magical missions, either through directly lending their magic essence for more complicated spells or seeking magical items and ingredients. He knew that witches often went on journeys and take residence in mortal towns and cities when they’re in their early teens, usually only remaining for a year or two before leaving or deciding to live there permanently. And finally, he knew that witches often doubled as spies for those of the magical order, often rooting out the presence of other magical beings and reporting their findings to whomever they were loyal to in the council.  
And that last tidbit of information is what worried Robbie the most. He’d spent so many years hiding from the council and their glaring eyes and destructive reaches. It was too much for him to even consider having to go through the mess of their deeds once more. He dragged himself onto his feet and slunk towards the kitchen. Grabbing out his church key, he popped the top off one of his bottles of cider and proceeded to chug huge mouthfuls down his throat. Before he knew it, he’d drained the first bottle. He proceeded to open a second bottle, gulping down large gulps as he sauntered around his room. He stopped in front of a mirror, glancing into it. Behind his reflection, the sky was starting to darken, the orange vanishing in favor of the black night sky. A memory crossed his mind.

_“Robbie, go sit in your room. Sit in there and don’t come out for a while.”_

_“But momma, why? What’s going on?”_

_“Your father saw a witch today circling above our town’s lines.”_

_“Are witches bad, momma?”_

_“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. Witches are spies for_ them _. If they know about our settlement, we’ll be found out and…and I don’t want to even think about that possibility.”_

_“Will they hurt people?”_

_“Badly, Robbie. Please, promise me you’ll be good. Just hide in your room until your father comes home.”_

_“I promise, momma.”_

Robbie took another long swig from his bottle. The room was starting to grow more distant, his mind growing hazier. He drained the second bottle and tossed it to the side. He rubbed his temple tiredly. He reached into his hamper and fished out his pajamas from earlier. He didn’t feel like pulling out a whole new set of pajamas. With a spin and a flare of light, Robbie was dressed for bed.

As he looked at his bed, he decided against going to bed quite yet. He needed to come up with a plan, and fast. Because if he were right, and a witch was going to take up residence in LazyTown, he’d either need to get out as fast and covertly as possible, or he’d have to drive the witch out before his true nature was found out. The sun dipped below the horizon as Robbie sat at his work desk and continued to feverishly think through his options.

\--

_“I’m back.”_

_“Oh, wonderful! So, what did you think? Will that town work for us?”_

_“I believe so. It’s small, much smaller than what the others usually travel to, but good for someone whose journey is starting so late. Plus, the children seem very friendly, at least to cats.”_

_“And there’s no other witches or magic users in town?”_

_“I detected a magic signature within the town. Strangely, though, it feels…damaged. Like it belongs to another magic user, but it’s not quite strong enough to tell me who or what owns it. Stronger than a mortal human’s, but not as strong as the huldúfolk generally are.”_

_“Odd. But, not witches at the least?”_

_“None that I saw.”_

_“Well then I think we’ve found our town! Tomorrow morning, we’ll go introduce ourselves! I’m so excited, Circe. I can’t wait to meet all those people!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some quick notes about this fanfiction:
> 
> This is AU was heavily inspired by the works of Hayao Miyazaki, most specifically Kiki's Delivery Service. That'll become more apparent by the next chapter, but it won't follow the exact plot of the movie. Some beats in the story will be from that movie, but for the most part I'll try and keep it different.
> 
> I'm also trying to take a more episodic approach to this story. I feel like I've begun to rush a lot of the chapters in my recent fanfictions, so I'm going to allow this story to take its time and breathe. Hopefully you guys will like this! I'm having fun writing it, though it will be a lot longer than my other fanfics (I just finished writing chapter 3 and it's already at around 22,000 words to give you an idea).
> 
> I also plan to update about once a week, roughly. Sorry if the next chapter takes a while, but I'll try to keep to that schedule which I hope to increase to twice a week by May.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. A Stranger Has Arrived

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise known as, "Sportacus Is New In Town"
> 
> Trigger warning for slight emetophobic content near the end of the chapter. It's brief, but I thought I'd put a warning regardless.

Getting up the next morning was hell for Robbie. He’d neglected to prepare himself for a potential hangover and thus, when he awoke, his head was throbbing and his mouth had that all-together too familiar cotton feeling he hated so much. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, trying and failing to block out the mocking crowing of his house guest. He really had no energy to deal with the bird this morning. He barely had the energy to get up. Regardless, Robbie brought himself up into a sitting position. Last night’s sleep was unsatisfactory, to say the least. Considering he wasted so many hours just trying, and failing, to come up with a contingency plan in case the witch decided to pay a visit, he woke feeling drained and exhausted, despite technically getting over eight hours of sleep.

He stumbled onto his feet and snapped his fingers, spinning in a circle and emerging in his everyday clothes. He staggered over to his kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. He’d need the caffeine to get through the day. He threw two slices of bread into his toaster as he sat back, fixing his hair in the mirror as he waited. His hair was a mess; he’d neglected to take a shower the night before. But it’d do for today. He poured himself a cup of hot coffee as his toast popped up out of the toaster. He spread a generous amount of peanut butter onto the bread as he took a sip from his coffee. He grimaced. He’d forgotten the sugar. As he poured a rather copious amount of white sugar into his coffee cup, he glanced out his window as a few children ran past, excitedly chittering with each other. One of his windows had been left slightly ajar, allowing him to briefly hear the children’s exchange.  
“Can you believe it? A witch, in our town!”  
“I heard he’s circling above the town square. If we hurry, we might be able to greet him!”  
Robbie froze and felt an involuntary shiver run up his spine. The witch was already here? He was definitely not ready. He hadn’t even prepared any defensive wards yet. By all accounts, he was left exposed. He cursed under his breath, dropping his toast and coffee as he went scrounging around for a certain folder of paper. He threw aside manila folders filled with receipts, tax forms, and other important articles, as he rooted around for a specific folder. Finally, at the very bottom of the pile, was an aged and yellowed folder filled with similarly yellowed paper. Filling the folder was instructions for various wards and thralls, all things Robbie needed to guard his house and himself from anything the witch might try.

He tucked a few choice spells under his arm as he strode towards the door. He wanted to get at least a peek at this supposed witch, if he wanted any idea of what he was coming up against, and to make his wards more specific. Even if it meant risking what little safety he had left.

\--

Slinking through the shadows, Robbie snuck through alleyways and other darkened corridors on his way to the town square. He allowed his body to melt into the darkness, his eyes focused on the crowd of children that had gathered, their faces turned up towards the sky, their mouths gaping open. Robbie lowered his eyes at the group. It was in this moment that he was thankful that he had learned about shadowstepping in his youth. If luck was on his side, the witch would be unfamiliar with shadowstepping spells and wouldn’t notice him lurking in the alleyways, watching him from the darkness. Clutched in his hand were instructions for forming “sharp” wards, ones meant to drive others away through placing a stabbing and piercing sensation over certain parts, or the entirety, of their bodies. Not deadly on its own, but just enough to drive someone away if they hadn’t formed the appropriate protective shields beforehand, and Robbie guessed that a witch that chose LazyTown as their place of residence wasn’t the most aware or wary of witches.

The children oo’ed and ahh’ed as something dipped down from the skies. From Robbie’s vantage point, all he saw was a blur of brown and blue circling around the town’s park, the distinct features too vague for him to make any snap judgements or to imprint his wards around the specific person. A minute or so later, however, the witch’s circling slowed as they began their landing. Gracefully, the witch landed on their feet, their broom in their right hand, and their feline familiar perched on their left shoulder.   
The first thing Robbie noticed as the witch’s features grew more distinct, was that this witch appeared much older than their early teens. As a matter of fact, they looked much closer to their early to mid-twenties, closer to Robbie’s age. They stood tall, their pose one that conveyed confidence and enthusiasm, which already set Robbie to disliking them. Their outfit was…unusual, to say the least. Even for a witch. Unlike most witches, who chose to dress in dark colors like black and dark purples, this witch was dressed in sky-blue and white. This witch wore a blue and white tunic, that tapered off into a short skirt that ended right above their knees. The neck was tall, and more of a v-formation, with black and white stripes that highlighted its sides. Centered in the middle of the ensemble was a shining, clear crystal. A strange accessory; most witches forewent any accessories or jewelry as far as he remembered. The witch wore white tights underneath its tunic, with the outfit topped by a pair of blue, calf-high boots, with red and white accents. On top of their head was a sky-blue cap, with matching black and white stripes. Another unusual addition, as Robbie was taught that most witches preferred their hair to be loose so they could feel the rush of the wind on their brooms.

As the witch turned around to face the children, Robbie spotted the long, pointy black moustache that he sported. A male witch, Robbie assumed. He ducked back behind some trashcans, his attention completely fixated by the new arrival. For a brief moment, he noted the way the witch’s outfit was tailored to his body, accentuating each angle and curve. He brushed away that train of thought as he listened to the children talk to the witch.  
“Are you a witch?” asked the blonde one.  
The witch smiled and nodded. “I am! I’m on my journey of exploration, and I was hoping to settle in this town for a while! Are there any other witches here?”  
The pink…Stephanie shook her head. “Nope! You’re the only one!”  
The witch grinned. “Perfect! I’m Sportacus, by the way.”

Sportacus? What an odd name for a witch. Robbie always heard that witches preferred more earthy and natural names. A name like Sportacus almost seemed to be compensating for something.

Stephanie smiled back. “Welcome to LazyTown, Sportacus!” She gave a curious look to the witch. “Do you have someplace to stay?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Do you know anyone who might have an open room? I’ll be able to pay rent, since I’m planning to do any odd jobs available around town.”  
“You can ask my uncle! I think we have a spare room in the attic you could take! Just ask him!” Stephanie suggested cheerily.  
Sportacus stood in a superhero stance. “That’d be great! Where is he?”  
Stephanie frowned and looked down thoughtfully. “Well…I’m actually not sure. He could be in town hall, or at the hangar. Maybe you should take a look around? His name’s Milford Meanswell, if that helps.”  
“If you do that, maybe you could also introduce yourself to everyone! If you’re planning to do odd jobs anyways, might as well let everyone know that!” said the sharply dressed kid.  
Sportacus nodded. “Sounds like a great idea! I’ll go do that!” he said cheerily.  
The kids happily waved as the witch jumped back onto his broom, clicking his heels together as him and his broom rose up into the air, hovering up a few feet and zooming off towards the rest of the town. Robbie snapped his fingers and apparated into the next alley. Sportacus had already passed by. Sighing, Robbie snapped his fingers once more, appearing a few alleys over. Much to his surprise, Sportacus was standing on the ground, his broom once more in his hand, and his familiar hissing at the presence of Officer Obtuse. Robbie couldn’t help but grin and chuckle to himself as the policeman handed the witch a ticket.  
“If you’re going to fly on that thing, at least keep it on the road. Next time, I won’t slice the penalty of your ticket.” Warned Obtuse.  
“I understand. Thank you, officer.” Sportacus said sheepishly.  
It was a small amount of satisfaction, considering the potential danger, but it was still monumentally pleasing for Robbie. Just seeing his potential life destroying figure be knocked down a few pegs was something he reveled in. Then again, if he were right, the small pleasures should be enjoyed as much as possible, since he wouldn’t find joy or happiness ever again soon.  
Robbie noticed the witch’s familiar chattering in his ear, uttering a string of chirps and mewls that, somehow, Sportacus understood. He listened intently, nodding every few sounds and even talking to the feline.  
“Don’t worry Circe, the policeman is just doing his job. We’ll just walk from here on, not like this town’s too large to traverse.” The witch said with a smile.  
So the demon cat has a title. Circe, an appropriate name. As the witch and his familiar walked away, Robbie kept close to the shadows, snapping his fingers to disappear once more and fading with the darkness, leaping from each cast black space to pursue the witch closely.

\--

Sportacus briskly continued along his path, occasionally checking up upon his perched familiar, feeding her small bites of dried fish from his pocket. He drank in the sight of the town. It was quaint, but nonetheless very cozy. Despite only being in its boundaries for a few minutes, he already felt like he belonged. The warm, summer sun heated his skin and left him feeling energized and renewed. Him and Circe had travelled hundreds of miles and many days before finally settling on LazyTown. And while he did enjoy the freedom of the open skies on his broomstick, it was nice to finally find a town to begin his journey of discovery. His mentor had extolled long and extensively on the importance of this year in his life, and how he’d leave more matured and grown then he could ever imagine. This prospect excited Sportacus; he was more than ready to learn and develop, perhaps in ways he never considered.

As him and his companion travelled along, however, the glint of something glittery and shiny caught his eye. He turned and found himself admiring the sight of a beautifully crafted jacket in a store window. It was sewn from a handsome, powder blue color, with hundreds of gemstones carefully sewn around its sleeves and lapels. The outfit itself seemed to reflect rainbows and sparkles into the air around it, lighting up the display case and drawing in Sportacus’s eyes. He was absolutely entranced by its beauty.  
“Don’t get distracted, Sportacus. Besides, we couldn’t afford that even if we wanted it!” Circe said warily. She stuck a tongue out at the window display as she spotted a purse with a cat design stitched on its front.  
Sportacus gently patted Circe’s head, his eyes not turning away from the display for even a second. “You worry too much, Circe! Besides, I’m only admiring it. I know we can’t afford it.” Sportacus said distractedly.  
Circe blew a raspberry, or some equivalent of it, and swatted at Sportacus’s hand. “You know better than to patronize me with your head pats! Come on, we need to find that girl’s uncle before it gets dark.”  
“We’ve got several hours before nighttime, we can take a moment to browse the local stores. After all, it’ll also give us a great way to meet more townsfolk!” Sportacus pointed out.  
Before his familiar could protest any more, Sportacus pushed open the shop’s door, stopping only a second at the chime the door elicited as he entered.

Bessie was back behind her counter when the witch entered. She was thoroughly drawn into her magazine, the same one from the other day, when she peered over its pages to notice the new arrival. Tossing down her reading material, Bessie absolutely beamed at the sight of a new patron. And not just any patron, but a particularly handsome one too. She smoothed out her hair and took a quick glance at a mirror before approaching Sportacus.  
“Well, hello! Welcome to Busybody Boutique!” she said with a bright smile. “I’m Bessie Busybody, but you can just call me Bessie, and I own this humble little shop! I imagine that you’re in here to look for something that’ll compliment your fine features?”  
Sportacus’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink from a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. He chuckled and shook his head. “Actually, I just came in to look. My name’s Sportacus! I’m a witch and I’m hoping to stay in this town to help out.”  
Ms. Busybody’s eyes grew wider. “A witch? Well, bless my soul! There was a witch in my town when I was a young girl, and I remember how sweet and helpful she was! I’m certain that you’ll be a fantastic addition to the town!” she said enthusiastically, patting the witch’s arm.  
Sportacus smiled warmly. “I hope I can help! Actually though, I could use your help right now. Do you know where a Mr. Meanswell is? A young girl with pink hair told me to go find him. She said he may have a room available to rent.”  
“Ah! You must be talking about Stephanie! Yes, that’s his niece. Bless his heart for taking her in after such a nasty situation with her parents…” Ms. Busybody noted.  
Sportacus’s expression grew more worried. “What?”  
Ms. Busybody waved off his concern. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned that! That’s an old, Meanswell dispute, and I shouldn’t gab about it to just anyone! But, if I were to guess, Milford is most likely at the hanger right now, working on his “secret project”. You can’t miss it, it’s right on the Eastern side of town!”

Sportacus indeed shook off his worry and smiled. “Okay! Thank you, Bessie!” he said warmly. He was about to take off out the door, when he paused to gaze upon a beautiful overcoat that a mannequin wore. He admired the color, a bright blue much like an underwater glacier, accented with silver detailing and shining buttons that captured the store’s luminescent lighting and converted it into beams of solid white light. As Sportacus approached the coat, he could feel a strange energy buzzing from its seams, clashing with his own natural magic and leaving the sensation of static electricity coursing over his skin and thin arm hair.  
He managed to tear his eyes away from the coat just long enough to address Bessie. “Um, I was wondering. I saw this coat from the window. Who designed it?”  
Bessie’s eyes widened and she nodded. “That’s actually designed by a local, Robbie Rotten.  He only stops by here once a week to drop off the clothing I order from him and then he leaves. I don’t know much about him, despite working with him for years, but I do know he’s very talented. Everything he makes, I’m not sure what it is about them, but all of his creations seem to have a life to them. My loyal customers often gush about how they feel more alive and energized when they were those blouses or coats, and I’m not quite sure why.”  
Sportacus couldn’t hold back a shiver as he felt something run up his arm. Magic, it was definitely magic. Not very powerful, but very present. The people in this town were wearing warded or charmed clothing, and they didn’t even know it. He immediately became more curious about this “Robbie Rotten” character.  
“Well, uh, do you know where he lives?” asked Sportacus.  
Bessie shook her head. “I’m afraid not. But I do know he frequents the bakery nearby, so you might check there if you want to find him too.”  
Sportacus smiled and nodded his thanks. “Thank you, Bessie, I think I’ll go find him. And remember, if you need anything, just ask! That’s what I’m here for!” he said as he took off towards the door.  
“Tah tah, Sportacus dear!” Bessie called after him, waving happily to the witch.

Sportacus gently closed the door behind him. Looking about his surroundings, Circe crossed over to his left shoulder, pointing her muzzle towards a side street. Sportacus nodded and casually made his way down the street.  
“Do you believe me now?” Circe asked.  
“I never didn’t believe you.” Sportacus answered.  
“But what do you think? This Robbie Rotten is spreading his charms and wards across the town without their knowledge. Do you think he could be a threat?” asked the feline.  
“I mean, they are just wards and charms. Not thralls or glamours or curses. I don’t think he’s a threat. Hard to say until we meet him.” Sportacus said with a shrug.  
“He’s still spreading magic across a mortal town _without_ their permission.” Circe pointed out.  
“Let’s give him a chance, Circe. Besides, if he is a magic user, it might be a good idea to get to know him. We’re both new at this, so it’d be good to know someone we can relate to!” Sportacus said, his tone more enthusiastic and optimistic than his animal companion.  
Circe rolled her eyes, unconvinced. She decided to allow herself to be distracted instead by the delectable smell that filled the air. Her little nose twitched as she drank in the warm and cozy smell of freshly baked bread. She licked her chops eagerly.  
“Well, even if he’s not there, we should spend a good amount of time in that bakery. It smells wonderful!” Circe noted.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were the one who wanted me to remain focused?” he asked cheekily.  
Circe’s attention remained fixated on the smell. “Only because you were distracted by stupid things. THIS is important. It’s food! At least I’m interested and distracted by things that could fill our stomachs!”  
On cue, Sportacus’s stomach growled. He laughed and patted his stomach. “Fine, you have a point! I think I have a few coins left, we can get some bread or something.”  
The two pushed open the shop door and entered the sweet-smelling bakery.

The smell of the baked bread soon became mixed with something far less mouth-watering, and the strange combination made Sportacus and Circe screw their noses up in confusion.  
Behind the counter, a hazy-eyed teen stood to attention, his questionable magazine flying out of his hands as he hastily stuffed it under the counter. A lop-sided grin formed on his face as he noticed the stranger’s broomstick and his feline companion.  
“Hey, woah! Kind of early for Halloween, aren’t ya?” commented Jives.  
Sportacus winced slightly, but gave a smile regardless. “Well, this isn’t a costume. It’s what I wear each day! My name is Sportacus, and I’m a witch!” he said, extending his hand towards the teen.  
Jives’ eyes blew wide open. He mouthed the word, “woah”, as he slowly took the witch’s hand. “My apologies, my good man. Didn’t mean any sort of insult. Wait, are you being serious?”  
“I’m quite certain I am.” Sportacus noted with a patient smile.  
“So, you can like fly on that thing?” Jives said, pointing at the broomstick.  
Sportacus nodded. “Unless the local policeman tells me otherwise, I can.” He said with a laugh.  
Jives waved off Sportacus’s comment. “Ah, Officer Obtuse is a hard-ass. I’d just ignore him if I were you.”  
“Jives!” a voice barked from the back.  
Both Jives and Sportacus turned towards the source of the voice. Barging past a curtain came a tall man, his brown hair lightened with a dusting of flour. His arms were large and ropy, and his hands showed clear signs of wear and scarring. His face was quite angular, and his expression was dour. He glared at his son as he crossed his arms.  
“What have I told you about watching your language around the customers?” asked the man gruffly.  
Jives shrugged. “Chillax, pop man. We’re cool, there’s no kids around.”  
A sharp glare from the man, now assumed to be Jives’ father, cut through the rebellious front his son threw up, leaving Jives to shrink back and look guiltily at both his father and Sportacus.  
“Uh, apologies, Mr. Sportacus. I should act more professional.” Jives mumbled.  
Sportacus shrugged. “It’s okay, I understand.” He said with a thin smile.

The taller man gave Sportacus a warm smile. “Apologies, sir! My son can be a bit of a bum. Please, perhaps you’d accept some free rolls as compensation?”  
Sportacus looked surprised. “Oh, wow! Thank you, but that’s not necessary! I actually came here to tell you about my services. You see, I’m a witch and I’m here for my journey. I thought I’d just help out with whomever needs me, so if you need some help around here I’m available!”  
The man’s eyes widened. “Oh! Well you have perfect timing. Considering I can’t trust my current delivery boy,” he said, shooting a look at his son. “I really need someone to do the bread delivery tomorrow morning. If you can get here around 7 am and deliver the bread around town, I’d really appreciate that!”  
Sportacus gave him a thumbs-up. “Of course! I’d be more than happy to do that!”   
The man gave the witch a toothy grin. “Well you’ve saved me a lot of hassle. Thanks, uh…”  
“Sportacus!”  
“Sportacus, thank you. You can call me Neil.” Said the baker.  
“Well Neil, I’m excited to help you out! Though, can I ask you a question? Has a Mr. Robbie Rotten stopped by today?”  
“Ol’ Robbie? Nah, he hasn’t been by today. He probably won’t show up for a while, if he even comes by.” Jives remarked.  
Sportacus’s face fell. “Oh, okay. Do you have any idea where he might be?”   
“Nobody knows much about Mr. Rotten. Tracking him down is pretty difficult, if not impossible. He stops by every few days to buy bread, but I don’t anything about him otherwise.” Neil said thoughtfully. He frowned, twisting his lip. “Well, I do know that he’s odd, and quite a grouch.” He looked at Sportacus curiously. “Why do you want to find him so badly? Is he in some kind of trouble with a witch’s union or something?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I just saw his clothing in Bessie’s boutique and I wanted to ask him about them!”  
“Yeah, they’re sure something. Mom really likes his designs. She always seems to get more energized when she wears his blouses.” Said Jives.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “She does?”  
“Well, she looks wonderful in his eccentric designs, so that’s probably why. Self-confidence might be key, but matching it with the outside doesn’t hurt.” Notes Neil. He then serves Sportacus and his companion a slice of bread each. “Here, you both look hungry. This one is on me.” He said with a smile.  
Circe didn’t wait for Sportacus to give his thanks before she hopped off his shoulder and started nibbling on the slice of bread. She meowed happily as she chomped up the sweet loaf. Sportacus shook his head at his cat a look before giving his thanks to Neil. The bread was absolutely heavenly, its crust flaky with just the right amount of crisp, and its inner parts fluffy and just sweet enough.

After finishing their meal, Sportacus and his familiar departed from the bakery, waving goodbye to Neil and Jives. Sportacus sighed as he felt much more energized. He hadn’t realized how hungry he felt and, while a single slice of bread didn’t constitute a meal, it would keep him going for at least a little while.   
“Well Sportacus, where to next? Are we still trying to find this Mr. Rotten?” Circe asked as she licked her chops, cleaning her muzzle of breadcrumbs.  
Sportacus shook his head. “I think not for now. It doesn’t look like anyone knows much about him, and I think finding Stephanie’s uncle is more important right now. We still need a place to sleep at least for the night.”  
Circe twitched and sneezed quietly. Sportacus patted her head gently afterwards. The cat gave a low growl. “You know I don’t like it when you do that. If I were some two-bit lap cat, I might tolerate it, but I’m far more than a normal cat.”  
Sportacus smirked. “Come on, you like it more than you admit. Or perhaps this is better?” he said, reaching up to scratch the feline’s neck.  
Circe couldn’t hold back a purr as she leaned into Sportacus’s hand, closing her eyes peacefully at the soothing sensation.   
“I think I’ve got your number.” Sportacus said teasingly.  
“Shut up.” Grumbled Circe.  
Sportacus laughed. He stopped as he noticed something move in the corner of his eyes. He stopped scratching his cat’s neck as his attention turned towards the darkened alleyway. He could see something moving in the shadows.  
“Hello? Is someone there?” Sportacus called.  
The shadowy figure froze, then shrunk quickly into the depths of the shadow.  
“Wait! Come back!” Sportacus said, rushing towards the alley. He glanced around the small pathway, pushing aside trash bags and cans. Nothing. The only thing that moved in his field of vision was a squirrel, digging around in a trash can deeper in the alley.  
Circe looked about, sniffing at the air. She glanced at her witch. “If there was someone here, they’re long gone.”  
Sportacus frowned, biting his lip gently. “I could’ve sworn I saw someone though. They must’ve booked it if we weren’t able to catch them.”  
“Or maybe they were never there to begin with.” Circe suggested with a slightly sarcastic tone.  
Sportacus gave a look at the feline. “Oh, come on, I’m not seeing things.”  
“You never know! That bakery reeked of weed. You could be experiencing a contact high.” Circe said with a Cheshire grin.  
Ignoring his familiar, Sportacus turned and walked back out of the alley, only glancing back one more time to see if the figure reappeared. Shaking his head, he walked towards the outskirts of town.

“We’ll just forget about what I saw for now. We should go find Stephanie’s uncle. I thought I saw a hangar this way when we flew in, so let’s go this way.” Said Sportacus thoughtfully.

As the two walked along, neither noticed the strange movement in their shadows as they tromped towards the grassy fields that surrounded the town.

\--

The airplane hangar, as Sportacus and Circe discovered, was potentially one of the most unusual and unique looking buildings in all of LazyTown, thought not from a unique design or structure, or its surroundings. No, what made it so unique was how its exterior almost seemed trapped in a long-gone time. With its red brick exterior and usage of wood frames, its color faded from weather and time, the whole building looked like someone had taken it from the 1940’s and plopped it right in their present time. And considering it was surrounded by tall, golden and green grasses that stopped at Sportacus’s thighs, it made the whole structure look even more dated. Despite the shoddy look of the hangar, Sportacus and Circe noticed that the runway was keep impeccably clean and taken care of. Fresh tarmac had been paved, the lane lines and markings painted in bright white paint.

From the outside, Sportacus could faintly hear a radio as he approached. A door had been left ajar, and the witch smelled the slightest smell of diesel fuel and oil. He carefully pushed the door open, cringing at the loud creak it elicited, as he peered inside. The inside of the hangar didn’t look much better or more updated than its exterior. The flooring was dirty and a few squares had cracks broken into their surfaces, allowing a few spare weeds and flowers to grow through the foundation. Dust particles swirled and danced in the beams of sunlight that shone through the murky and ancient window panes. The lighting fixtures glowed a faint yellow color, their bulbs audibly buzzing and humming with electricity.  
Sitting in the middle of this aged hangar was the inner working of a biplane, its outer shell removed in favor of working on its engine and inner structure. Its propeller sat off to the side, and Sportacus could barely make out a pair of legs that hung out from underneath the plane. The sounds of metal clicking against metal and screws being fastened in mixed with the tune of the radio, which was playing a bopping tune by some group Sportacus didn’t recognize.  
“Pixel! How’s that engine coming along? Is it secured yet?”  
Sportacus turned and finally noticed a man sitting at a large desk covered in scrap parts and schematics. He was a slightly chubbier individual, with skin tanned from many hours out in the sun. His hair was grayed and balding, and he wore a mustard yellow suit that only accentuated the tan tones in his skin. He didn’t seem to notice Sportacus, as he distractedly took a sip of coffee and examined his diagrams once more.

“It’s about ready, Mayor Meanswell!” chirped another voice. Sportacus turned and saw a kid roll out from underneath the gigantic flying machine. His button-up shirt was stained with grease and engine oil, as well as his face. Perched atop his head was a pair of goggles that, for whatever reason, seemed to have various pieces of machinery and antenna branching from its frame. The kid looked and was seemingly startled as he finally noticed the arrival of Sportacus and his familiar.  
“Oh! Hey! Didn’t see you there. Can we help you?” asked the child.  
Sportacus smiled warmly. “In a way, yes! My name is Sportacus. I just arrived here in town and was told by a girl named Stephanie that her uncle had a room available. Is he here?”  
The kid pointed at the man at the desk. “That’s Mayor Meanswell right there!” He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Mr. Mayor! This guy wants to speak to you!”  
Mayor Meanswell, broken out of his focus, nearly jumped out of his chair and, flustered, turned towards the youth and Sportacus. He stood up quickly, adjusting his slightly too small suit jacket and striding across the floor with a jolly smile.  
“Oh! Hello sir! I don’t believe we’ve ever met!” said Mayor Meanswell, sticking out his hand. “My name is Milford Meanswell, and I’m the mayor of this town.”  
Sportacus took the mayor’s hand and shook it firmly. “I’m Sportacus! I just arrived today and was told you had a spare room available? Your niece told me about it.”  
The mayor’s face lit up. “Ah! So, Stephanie told you about it? Well, she’s right, I do have a room available for rent! You’re welcome to have it, if you wish. Of course, we’ll have to discuss rent payments and rules, but I imagine you’re very tired. How long have you travelled?”   
“Many days. We don’t have much along the lines of money, so we often slept out in the open air, and travelled throughout the day.” Sportacus answered, wincing as he realized it might’ve not been to his best interests to mention his lack of cash.

Mayor Meanswell, however, didn’t seem bothered by the addition of that fact. Actually, he only smiled and said, “Well, to be honest, I’m not too worried about collecting rent. It would be nice, of course, but I imagine we could arrange something until you can make a steadier paycheck.” He raised an eyebrow as he noticed Sportacus’s broom. “Are you…some sort of housekeeper or something?”  
Sportacus startled the mayor by uttering a deep and robust laugh, chuckling as he wound down his laughter. “No, but I could see how you might think that!’ He smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “I am a witch. I’m actually on my journey of discovery and was hoping to settle down in your town. I could do odd jobs around town and help with my magic, if that was all right with you. I wouldn’t want to impose.”  
The mayor’s eyes widened and almost sparkled as he took in what Sportacus had said. “A witch?? Oh my! This is very exciting! You can most definitely stay! It is no imposition at all. In fact, I’m sure the town would be very eager to have you around! LazyTown is so small, we rarely get any new faces appearing, let alone one as fascinating as you!”  
Sportacus sheepishly chuckled. “I’m not that amazing, mayor. Just a slightly-above-average traveler you could say.”  
“Well, modesty is a virtue, though in this case you might be underselling yourself a bit.” The mayor noted. A small smile appeared on his face as he asked, “If I may ask, if you’re a witch, does that mean you can use magic?”  
Sportacus grinned and hopped onto his broom. With a kick of his heel that sent the bottom part of his tunic fluttering, Sportacus zipped up into the air, hovering right underneath the hangar’s ceiling. Pixel and the Mayor watched in awe as Sportacus dove past their heads, completing a corkscrew in mid-air. He then carefully landed once more on the ground, to the sounds of both Pixel and the Mayor clapping enthusiastically.  
“Wonderful! Oh, that was just wonderful!” the Mayor gushed.  
Pixel’s eyes twinkled. “Would you…would you mind if I study the aerodynamics of your broom some time?” he asked shyly.  
Sportacus smiled and nodded. “Of course! That sounds like fun!”

The Mayor smiled warmly. “Well, it looks like you’re already finding your place here, Sportacus! I think you’ll fit in quite nicely!”  
“I can only hope so, Mayor Meanswell!” said Sportacus optimistically. Circe, on the other hand, only yawned.  
“Oh dear! It looks like your pet is on the tired side. Perhaps I could call Stephanie and have her show you to my home? I’m going to be here for a while longer, so if you’d like to get settled in now, I can have her come by.”  
Circe flicked her ears back and uttered a low growl at being referred to as Sportacus’s pet. Sportacus hushed her gently, giving her a look that said, “be nice, he’s our landlord now”. “I think that would be great. Thank you again for opening your home to us both.” He said with a friendly smile.  
“It is no problem at all! It’s quite exciting actually! I never imagined I’d have a real-life witch living in our little town!” quipped the Mayor as he made his way over towards the telephone which, in keeping up with the aesthetic of the building, also looked like it was plucked out of the 1940’s. Twisting the rotary a few times, the Mayor made a quick and cheery call to his niece.   
Sportacus, in the meantime, looked over at the biplane, uttering a low whistle as he admired its frame. “This is pretty amazing! Did you build it yourself?” he asked Pixel.  
Pixel smiled. “Not by myself, but I did design the engine! Mayor Meanswell hired me as his assistant engineer, so I’ve been working on this plane for a few months now! After we get the outer shell on, it should be ready to fly in another month or so!”  
“That’s incredible!” praised Sportacus.  
Pixel smiled proudly as he watched the witch give the plane a look around.  
After a few short minutes, the Mayor hung up and gave a friendly smile to the witch.  
“Stephanie should be by in a few minutes. You’re welcome to relax and stay here for the time being, if you’d like!” the Mayor offered.  
“I think I’ll actually head outside for a bit, enjoy the fresh air. It’s beautiful day today, and I wouldn’t want to waste it!” answered Sportacus. He wasn’t being completely untruthful, he did want to enjoy the sunshine. But he wouldn’t lie that he partly wanted to get away from the increasingly noxious smell of grease and gas that he could see was also irritating his familiar.

He waved and gave one last thanks to the Mayor as he exited the hangar, breathing in a deep breath of fresh air to clear the pungent smells of the hangar from his lungs. He sighed, noting the faint smell of wild daisies and dandelions that punctuated the air, mixing in with the dominating smell of grass. Plucking one longer grass strand, he perched it in his mouth as he let Circe down to wander the premises. He gently laid his broomstick on the ground and stretched his hands and arms. After a second of warming up, Sportacus happily tumbled into a cartwheel, which ended with a handspring and a flip. He giggled as he rolled through the tall grass, feeling its prickly edges tickle his arms and face. He laid still, for a moment, as he watched some clouds lazily float across the sky. He sighed contently. He could feel, possibly from intuition, that he was really going to like it here.  
Circe had curled up on the tarmac, feeling the warm sun heat her black fur and lull her mind into a deep sleep. She sighed as she rolled and stretched her legs, chirping peacefully as she finally fell asleep. She was long overdue for a nap (she hadn’t gotten a chance to nap on their journey over since taking naps while you’re flying hundreds of miles above the ground with no safety devices was generally discouraged) and with the sun warming her body it was the perfect time for one. The only part of her that moved was her ear, which would occasionally twitch against the cool breeze that brushed over her fur.  
The two remained around the hangar for some time, either napping or playing in the fields, without a care in the world. They were so preoccupied with their relaxation time, that neither noticed the long shadow of the hangar suddenly pulsing, or how an arm seemed to stretch from its shade, grabbing and dragging the wooden end of Sportacus’s broomstick across the ground. Or how the figure of shadow was slowly emerging from his hiding place, a frown affixed to his face as he approached the carefree witch.  
“So, you’re going to stay, aren’t you?” asked the man.

Sportacus stopped mid-handstand, his eyes widening and his face paling as he finally noticed the tall, lanky man who now was in possession of his beloved broomstick. He was so surprised, in fact, that he quickly lost his balance and toppled clumsily onto the ground. Brushing himself off quickly, he stood onto his feet, internally debating on just how to approach his stranger that currently held one of his most important assets in his hands. He took a moment to look over the man, decked in purple and black (not the most breezy or springy of colors), his hair perfectly styled into a sort of pompadour, and his expression stuck in a perpetuated scowl.  
He heard Circe meow warningly behind the lanky stranger. Sportacus momentarily peered behind the man, seeing his familiar’s eyes flash with a burst of magic. Sportacus understood; this must be who they were looking for.  
He put on his best smile as he stepped forward towards the man, extending his hand out in a friendly gesture. “You must be the Mr. Rotten I’ve heard so much about! It’s good to finally meet you! I’m Sportacus!” he said warmly.  
Robbie looked down at the witch’s hand. He glanced back up and sneered at Sportacus. “I know who you are, you’ve been bothering everyone in town all day. What business do you have here, witch?” he asked sternly.  
Sportacus’s hand retracted as his smile faded. Nevertheless, he tried to keep what was left of his smile. “I was planning to stay here for my journey of discovery. All witches go through one once in their lives.”  
“Hmph, a little on the old side to be starting yours, don’t you think?” Robbie said dismissively.   
“Umm…well, I guess so. I mean, I did start my training late…” Sportacus said growing increasingly quiet.  
"Of course you did." Robbie replied flippantly. He lowered his eyes at the witch. "What are you _actually_ here for, witch?"  
Sportacus's smile faded. "I'm here for my journey of discovery." he reiterated.  
"You're lying." Robbie hissed.  
Sportacus looked offended. "I wouldn't lie! Why...why in the world would you think I'm lying?"

"Because it's a pretty good lie, that's why." Robbie answered. "A lot of humans know that a witch's journey of discovery happens when they're in their early teens. But just enough don't know that fact. So, a witch in their early twenties comes into their town claiming to be on that same journey? They wouldn't question it. Then that witch can go on their merry little business," Robbie continued, putting a sing-song emphasis on "merry little business". He scowled. "and before they know it, their town is a pile of rubble."  
Sportacus's face paled as he grew more distressed. "I-I'd never do such a thing!" he responded. Shaking his head, he tried to calm himself. "Look, Mr. Rotten, you've gotten me all wrong. Can we talk about this?" he said, stepping towards Robbie.  
As he took his first step, however, Robbie snapped his fingers, his body and Sportacus's broomstick melting into a shadow pool on the ground. Sportacus gasped; he hadn't seen this kind of magic before. The shadow slid underneath his feet, coagulating a few feet away from him on the opposite side, with Robbie emerging from the shadow still holding the witch's broom, looking a little greener and disoriented than he had before.  
"Stay away from me, witch. I've heard of what your kind can do, and I want no part of it." Robbie snarled, trying not to let slip how dizzy and ill he was starting to feel.  
Sportacus looked more pleadingly at the man. "Please Mr. Rotten, I think there's been a mistake. The witches I know would never bring destruction upon an innocent town. Perhaps there's a misunderstanding?" he said, trying to approach Robbie once more.  
Robbie snapped his fingers and vanished again into shadow. The shadow swerved over and he appeared once more behind Sportacus, looking even more ill than before.  
"Look, _ugh_ , Sportaflop," Robbie said, pausing as he felt a wave of nausea run over him. He used the witch's broom to support himself as he clenched his stomach. "you have no business in this, _blech_ , town. This town doesn't deserve annihilation, they're all oblivious to magic dealings. Why don't you, _oh geez_ , find another little town somewhere else to destroy with your presence? I'm certain there's, _pull it together Robbie_ , places much more deserving of, _hic_ , being destroyed." he suggested, being interrupted continuously as he felt his stomach churn.  
Sportacus gave a concerned look to the man. "Mr. Rotten, are you...feeling okay? Do you need some help?"  
"Don't you touch me, witch!" Robbie snapped, before throwing a hand over his mouth. He paused, allowing the nausea to pass, before he addressed the witch again. "Look, just get out of here. Both the town and I will be better off with you not in it. Now SCRAM." he hissed, before snapping his fingers once more. Leaving the witch's broom behind, the shadow pool slunk away, albeit its progression seemed clumsier than earlier.

Once Robbie had disappeared, Sportacus blinked, still processing what had just happened.  
Circe slunk up to his legs, bounding up his back and onto his shoulder.  
“Well, he’s quite a peach.” She commented.  
Sportacus frowned and bit his lip, looking down thoughtfully.  
“I guess there goes our option of _befriending_ the other magic user, huh? What do you want to do, Sportacus?” asked Circe.  
“We’ll stay.” Sportacus answered quickly.  
“Even after all that?”   
Sportacus nodded. “I don't know where Mr. Rotten got his impression of witches from, but I do know that he seems to have a distinctly wrong impression about what witches do." He looked at his familiar. "You and I both know that witches are generally peaceful people. Most would never harm a hair on a human or huldúfolk's head, and those that do are very rare."  
"And you think you'll be able to convince him otherwise?" asked Circe skeptically.  
Sportacus gave his familiar a silly half-grin, before ruffling her fur. "It's worth a try, right?"  
Circe lowered her ears and shook her head, making a discontented grunt. "You aerobics-obsessed, lunatic witch. You can never take the easy way out, huh?"  
Sportacus placed his fists on his waist, making a superhero pose. "Nope! Taking the easy way isn't even a possibility!"  
"Yeah, I've got that." mumbled Circe.  
Sportacus looked at Circe with a small smile. "You trust me?"  
Circe looked at her witch, seeing the genuine look in his eyes. She sighed. "You know I do. Just...try not to get us killed, okay?"  
Sportacus chuckled, his attention turning away as he heard a voice calling his name. Running up the road, her pink skirt fluttering in the wind, was Stephanie. She grinned as she waved him down.

“Sportacus! Sorry I took a while, but are you ready to see your room?” she asked happily.  
Sportacus smiled. “Of course! Thank you again for letting me stay in your home!”  
“It’s no problem! Come on, we can get an early dinner while we’re there!” Stephanie said, grabbing the witch’s wrist and leading him along.  
Sportacus laughed as he was pulled after the girl, barely getting a moment to grab his broomstick and pick up his pace to match hers. Mr. Rotten was a concern they could worry about later. For the time being, they needed to settle in and get some form of rest. Tomorrow was going to be an early one.

\--

Robbie shakily reappeared in his living room. As soon as his form stabilized and solidified, he immediately keeled over and had to fight himself from throwing up whatever remained in his stomach onto his floor. Mentally, he beat himself up. He knew his magic stamina wasn’t enough to handle shadowstepping for an extended period of time, let alone doing it _the entire day_.  
His body felt incredibly spent. Finally giving in to the wretching reflex, Robbie stumbled into the bathroom and proceeded to get sick.  
After cleaning up the mess and washing out his mouth, Robbie dragged himself into the kitchen. His coffee remained untouched from the morning, while his toast had been torn apart and mostly eaten by his houseguest. Robbie frowned, looking up to see the crow in the rafters, still tending to its newly bald wing. Digging through his cupboards, Robbie pulled out the peanut butter and jelly and proceeded to make himself a sandwich. As he ravenously ate through one sandwich, he considered popping open a cider. After all, that day had been incredibly taxing and he deserved the treat. But he had just puked up his stomach in the bathroom and still didn’t feel particularly good. Reluctantly, Robbie decided against drinking.  
He rubbed his forehead tiredly. It was almost embarrassing how low his magic stamina was. Considering what he was supposed to be, shadowstepping should be a cake walk for him. He made himself a second sandwich and ate it just as quickly as the first. He was starting to finally feel satisfied. He thought through what had happened that day.  
Sportacus had continuously denied any ill-intent in being in LazyTown. He _claimed_ that he was there for his journey of discovery, despite being far too old to have one. Immediately, that was fishy. He denied the potential for a witch to bring destruction to a town, which simply floored Robbie. How could he be so naive?  
Then again, he figured that if Sportacus truly _was_ one of _those_ witches, he would consistently deny any knowledge about just how wicked witches were, and about how their presence seemed to bring only misery to those around them. Robbie knew that part all too well.

He thought more about how vehemently the witch denied any potential for witches to be the cause of a town's downfall. He buried his face in his hands, and made a discontent and uneasy groan as he could feel his brain rev into gear. The more he thought about today's encounter, the more it dredged up from the back of his memory.

_Orange. Heat. Creaking. Screams._

He shuddered, and gave a side-eye to an unopened bottle of cider. He was tempted, but eventually fought off the urge. Shaking his head, he decided to give up on thinking through that day. He was drained, and he seriously needed a break before he upset his stomach even more.

He collapsed onto his mattress, still wearing his day clothes, and fell into a deep but fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments on the first chapter! I hope you all liked this one too. I know I said a week between updates, but I couldn't wait to put this one out. There may be some editing in the future as I tweak the plot, but hopefully nothing too drastic.
> 
> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy the future chapters!


	3. Beneath the Blue Suburban Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or alternatively titled, "Orange you glad to see me?"

The next morning was an early one, though not super early for Sportacus. He was a morning person naturally, so getting up before seven in the morning wasn’t too much of a struggle for him. As he stretched his arms above his head, he glanced at the room he stayed in.

The room the mayor offered to Sportacus was more than he could’ve asked for. Admittedly, it was on the smaller side and was in the mayor’s attic, but it still was fairly nice. The roof slanted the side wall at a sharp angle, the same wall his bed was set against. A window sat above the bed, allowing sunlight to filter through the glass and illuminate his room in natural light. A small round table sat to the other side, and was paired with two wooden chairs. The room was dusty, yes, but there was something cozy to the room. Sportacus took in a breath and enjoyed the musty smell.  
“I hope this room will work for you!” said the Mayor cheerily.  
Sportacus turned towards the mayor and smiled warmly. “It’s absolutely perfect! Thank you so much!”

He leapt out of bed, spooking Circe who was still snoozing at the end of his bed.  
“Good morning, Circe!” said Sportacus cheerily.  
Circe groaned and looked at the witch sleepily. “What are you doing up so early? Can’t you be normal and sleep in for once?”  
“I can’t! Remember, I promised Neil that I’d deliver his bread this morning at 7, so I’ve got to get going!” Sportacus said, chomping down half an apple as he pulled on his boots. Grabbing his broomstick, he turned and looked back at his familiar. “You coming?”  
“Why not, I don’t have anything better to do.” Circe said with as much of a shrug a cat could do. She hopped down from the bed and casually tromped over to Sportacus. He bent down so Circe could climb onto his shoulder before heading down the stairs and out the door. Settling himself over his broomstick, Sportacus clicked his heels and sprung up into the air, sighing at the soothing sensation of the cool morning air on his face. The sky was a dulled blue with some strong orange that broke through the sky in streaks, with the clouds a dark gray-blue. This was one of Sportacus’s favorite times of the day, since he got to watch the sunrise.

A few minutes later, Sportacus floated down from the sky and landed at the doorstep of the bakery, where Neil sat there waiting, smoking a cigarette. Sportacus twisted his nose and tried to hide his disgusted expression as the smoke hit his senses. Neil tossed the remaining part of his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his foot before he walked towards the witch with a smile.  
“Hey, you showed up! Didn’t know if you would, it’s a pretty early morning.” Neil said with a laugh.  
Sportacus grinned. “I love early mornings, so it’s no problem! Gives me a chance to watch the sunrise.” He glanced over at Circe as she gave a wide yawn. “Though, I don’t think my familiar shares my feelings.” He said with a chuckle.  
Neil smiled. “Well, hurry on back. I’ve got the delivery ready for you to take, so hopefully you’ll be done in time for your kitty friend to take a nap.” He said with a wink to the cat.  
“Finally, someone who speaks my language.” Said Circe with a grin.  
Sportacus and Neil walked inside, where a sack filled with wrapped bread sat on the counter. Neil hoisted the bag off the counter and handed it to Sportacus, who held the heavy sack with ease, much to Neil’s surprise. Neil then handed the witch a piece of paper.  
“Here’s the delivery addresses. Just try and get them there before nine and then come back. I should have your payment ready by then.” Neil said, coughing into his arm.  
Sportacus gave a single nod. “Got it! I’ll be on my way then. Be back soon!” he said, before running back outside. Straddling his broomstick, he clicked his heels and flew back up into the air.

Floating up in the air, Sportacus’s hat tip flopped in the wind as he examined the sheet of paper. He then realized a flaw in this arrangement: Sportacus had just arrived and was still unfamiliar with the names of streets and addresses. Sportacus frowned and twisted his lip, looking over the paper to scan the skyline.  
He looked over at his familiar. “Hey Circe, do you think you could muster up a mapping spell?”  
Circe yawned and gave Sportacus a look. “What, is it too much for you to do?”  
Sportacus frowned at her. “I would, but I can’t keep up the spell and fly.”  
Circe nodded. “Right, right. Just a second.” The cat closed her eyes, her whiskers quivering as her magic crackled and buzzed within her. As the energy built, she opened her eyes, releasing a bright flash of blue light out from her chest that spread over the rooftops. Instantly, the town was divided into a grid system, the names of the streets floating above each street like a holographic display.  
Circe began to clean her face as she peered back at her witch. “Will that work?”  
Sportacus smiled and rubbed her head. “Definitely. Thanks, pal.”  
“Hey hey, we’re on a time limit! Plus, I just washed that!” Circe groaned.  
Sportacus laughed before kicking his heels, jetting through the sky and towards his first stop.

\--

It was far too early for Robbie to be awake.

Yet here he was.

Robbie blearily rubbed his eyes as he stirred. Immediately he was hit with a pang of stomach pain. Lifting his head, he realized he’d passed out on his belly, a sleeping position that always left him feeling gross and sore in the morning. Carefully and slowly, he rolled himself onto his back, fighting back another wave of nausea. He crossed an arm over his eyes, hoping to block out the faint beams of sunlight that snuck through his draped windows. He gave a quick peek towards his work table. Laying atop a pile of scrap fabric, snoozing peacefully, was the crow. He huffed out a short laugh. At least the stupid bird finally learned to not fall asleep on his good fabric.  
He attempted to sit up, only to earn another wave of nausea in return. He laid back, allowing his head to fall back against his soft pillow. His eyelids began to flutter close once more. Today would have to a be a lazy day, in order for him to recuperate. Robbie definitely didn’t mind the idea. After such a stressful day he had yesterday, an entire day of doing nothing but eating comfort food and napping was just what the doctor ordered.

He sighed peacefully as he allowed himself to be dragged back asleep.

\--

The series of deliveries that Sportacus embarked on were definitely…interesting, to say the least.

For the first of his deliveries, Sportacus landed in the lawn of an adorable little house, squat and made of yellow bricks and chocolate brown shingles. The yard was decorated with little garden gnomes and blossoming flowers of many colors. A rainbow pinwheel spun slowly in the wind, and a set of windchimes rang quietly. The faint smell of garlic and spices punctuated the atmosphere of the home and made Sportacus’s mouth water. He really regretted not eating enough that morning.  
Clutching the sack of bread in his hands, he approached the door and gave it a gentle knock. A minute later, a plump woman with golden blonde hair answered, her cheeks rosy pink. Looking up at the stranger, she smiled the warmest and most bubbly smile Sportacus had seen in his life. It was the kind of smile that could light up rooms, and if someone were to make it vanish from her face, it would seem like a crime against humanity.  
“Well, good morning! I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before!” she said in a friendly tone. She gasped as she spotted Sportacus’s broom. “Ah! You must be the witch my son was mentioning!”  
Sportacus grinned and nodded. “I am! My name is Sportacus! And I have the bread you ordered right here.”  
The woman’s brow raised. “Oh goodness! Thank you so much! You already are quite the delivery man; our usual delivery boy is at least half an hour late.” She took the loaf of bread and gave a nod of thanks. “Did I introduce myself? I don’t believe I have. You can call me Miriam.” She said with a smile.  
“See you mom!” called a voice.  
Before Miriam could respond, a small, blonde haired boy zipped past her and skipped out into the yard. He skidded to a stop, seeing who his mother was talking to.  
“Oh! Sportacus! I didn’t know you were visiting!” said the boy excitedly.  
Miriam gave her son a gentle look. “Why don’t you say a proper greeting, Ziggy? You aren’t in _that_ much of a hurry, are you?”  
Ziggy looked down sheepishly. “No, ma’am.” He looked up at Sportacus with a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Sportacus.” He said.  
Sportacus gave him a warm smile. “Morning Ziggy. And no need with the “mister” thing, you can just call me Sportacus.”  
Ziggy looked surprised. “O-Oh! I can?”  
Miriam nodded. “If Sportacus told you that you can, that you don’t have to use the formal terms.”  
Ziggy gave a smile that was missing some teeth. “O-Okay!” he said. He looked at Sportacus. “Hey Sportacus, do you think you’ll have time to play today? I’m sure that Stingy and Trixie wouldn’t mind if you joined us!”  
“Thanks Ziggy, but I think today I might be a bit busy! But I’ll try, okay?” said Sportacus.  
Ziggy seemed a little disappointed, but he smiled nonetheless. “Aww, well that’s okay! I guess I’ll see you later Sportacus!” he said, before bounding out past his gate and down the street.  
Miriam laughed and shook her head. “That boy, so full of energy.” She glanced down at her watch and her eyes widened. “Oh goodness! I imagine you have more deliveries to make, yes? You should get going then!”  
Sportacus shook off her concern. “I think I’ll be okay for a few more minutes, if you wanted to keep talking!”  
Miriam gestured to the door. “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to join my mother and I for breakfast. Would you be interested?”  
Sportacus gave a silly, lop-sided smile. “T-Thank you! I’d really like that, and I’m sure my familiar would appreciate it too.”  
Circe meowed in confirmation.

The two then spent the next few minutes enjoying a relaxed breakfast with Miriam and her mother. Circe chowed down on pieces of well-cooked bacon and egg while Sportacus enjoyed his own eggs and bacon with a healthy helping of seasonal fruit. The three talked at length about LazyTown, its history and some of the people that lived there. In return, Sportacus enchanted them with stories of magic, magical creatures, and some of the towns he visited on his journey towards LazyTown. The two women seemed absolutely eager and begged for more stories. It must’ve been quite some time since they’d heard of such exciting tales.  
“It’s just like the books I read as a young girl.” Beamed Miriam’s mother.  
Sportacus would’ve loved to have told them more about the sights he’d seen, but as he glanced over at the clock, he realized he’d long overstayed his welcome. With a reluctant farewell and a thanks for breakfast, Sportacus was off again, flying up into the air on his magic broom, his familiar Circe perched on his shoulder and carefully cleaning her coat.

His second stop wasn’t quite as pleasant. He had to deliver a whole tray full of bread to a local diner called The Old Town Pitstop, a hole in the wall sort of place that smelled of grease and barbeque sauce. He rapped against the door, clutching the bread delivery with his other hand. An old man answered, his back hunched over and his neck craning like a sickly buzzard. His hair was hidden underneath an old, dirty baseball cap and his apron was stained with grease. He looked at Sportacus with one, clear eye, while the other lazily fell to the side. The man frowned as he examined the witch, but as his eye turned down to spot the witch’s broom, his already pale face went even paler.  
“Witch! Necromancer! Get off my doorstep!” the man screamed, cowering backwards towards his door.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Is everything okay, sir?” he asked nervously.  
The man glared at Sportacus. “You demonic acolyte! I will not let you pollute my humble establishment! Begone with you!” he spat.  
Sportacus shook his head and smiled uneasily. “I’m just here to deliver your bread. Trust me, I mean no harm – “  
“You will poison my livestock! You will lay a hex upon my darling wife, and eat my children!” accused the old man.  
Sportacus frowned. “Oh come on, that’s just stereotyping. Wait, do you even have livestock – “  
“BEGONE!” shouted the old man, as he grabbed a flowerpot that sat on the window sill. Heaving it over his shoulder, the man proceeded to chuck the terracotta pot straight at Sportacus’s head.  
Sportacus gasped in alarm and frantically threw his arms out in front of him, dropping the man’s bread onto the sidewalk. He flailed his hands in the non-verbal command for _gust_ , and instantly a burst of air rushed from his palms, diverting the flowerpot to harmlessly break against the concrete ground. The old man shrieked as the blustering winds nearly blew him back. His shaking hands clasped at the door frame, and as the wind died down he turned his face up towards Sportacus, who had already gotten back onto his broom and flown up towards the rooftops.  
Giving a brief glance back down to the diner, Circe looked at Sportacus. “Well, good to know it’s not just Mr. Rotten that hates us, huh?”  
Sportacus sighed and ignored his familiar’s comment as they dashed towards their next delivery.

After a few additional stops, Sportacus had completed his round of deliveries. He clicked his heels happily and zoomed up into the sky, aiming his broomstick back towards the bakery. He closed his eyes and sighed as the wind blew in his face. In a moment of giddiness, he raised his hand above his head, trailing his fingertips through a fluffy, white cloud. Circe, on the other hand, scrunched her face at the chilly gusts. As they approached their stop, Sportacus dipped the broomstick downwards, gently floating down to the cobblestone lane.  
Outside, Neil leaned against the wall of his bakery, smoking another cigarette. His head tipped up towards the sky, a thin smile forming on his face as he watched the witch carefully land on the ground.  
“Finished already?” asked Neil.  
Sportacus gave a quick nod. “Yeah! It was a great experience, I got to meet some really nice people around town.”  
“And some violent ones.” Added Circe.  
Sportacus shot his cat a look. “Okay, not all were nice, but most were!”  
“I’m guessing you ran into Mr. Ehrman, huh? He runs the Old Town Pitstop.”  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Heh, yeah he’s a bit kooky, but he’s harmless.” Noted Neil.  
“If by harmless you mean willing to chuck ceramic pots at people.” Muttered Circe under her breath.  
“Circe!” scolded Sportacus.  
Neil gestured towards the door. “If you’re willing, I actually have one more delivery that needs to be made. Mr. Troubleby ordered an angel food cake. I’d deliver it myself, but his farm is on the outskirts of town. You think you could handle it?”  
Sportacus smiled brightly. “Of course! It’d be my pleasure!”  
Neil laughed. “Fantastic, come with me and we’ll go get it.”

The two men walked inside, the bakery now alive with various patrons enjoying their treats. Jives worked the register, hastily delivering the customer’s orders and occasionally spilling coins onto the counter. Sportacus could see that he still hadn’t fully woken up yet. As he walked towards the counter, Sportacus glanced around at the clientele. His smile faded.  
“Oh yeah, did you ever manage to find Mr. Rotten? I know you were hard set on finding him yesterday.” Asked Neil, his focus on the angel food cake he was wrapping up.  
“I did. I met him outside the airplane hangar.” Sportacus responded, gently taking the cake Neil handed to him.  
“And? How’d it go?”  
Sportacus cringed. “It…could’ve gone better.” He admitted, deciding not to mention the multiple accusations that the man lobbed at him.  
Neil gave a belly laugh. “Yeah, I think that’s the best you could hope for from Mr. Rotten. He’s a sourpuss, if you haven’t noticed. Has been since the day he arrived.”  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why’s that?”  
Neil shrugged. “Who knows. No one could or would want to get close enough to ask.”  
Sportacus bit his lip. “I see.” He said thoughtfully.  
“I wouldn’t bother with him if I were you. He’s harmless enough, and he obviously doesn’t want to have friends. So, I’d just leave him be.” Added Neil.  
Sportacus thought for a moment, then gave a single nod and a small smile. “Thanks for the advice, Neil.” Lifting the wrapped cake, he gave a single wave to Jives before he exited the shop. He flew up into the sky on his broom.

“I think I saw a farm towards the Western border of town when we arrived. I bet that’s the Troubleby’s property.” Noted Circe.  
Sportacus didn’t answer.  
Circe looked at Sportacus curiously. “Sportacus?”  
“Huh?” he answered.  
“Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about that Rotten guy. You heard the baker, he’s not worth it. Plus, he was acting pretty irrational yesterday. You remember all that, don’t you?” Circe warned.  
Sportacus sighed. “I do remember all that, but…I don’t know. I told you already that I wanted to try at least talking to him. I know it might be tough, but if he really doesn’t have any friends and is living here thinking that…that I might destroy everything, I want to at least try and help.”  
“You know you can’t be friends with everyone, right?”  
Sportacus nodded. “Yes, but you know me. I want to give it my best shot before giving up. There must be something I could do to get us back on the right foot.”  
Circe glanced over at the ground, her ears perking up. “We’re here.” He said.  
Sportacus looked down and pointed his broom towards the ground, circling to a halt right in front of the farm’s gate.

\--

Robbie awoke once more, this time to the sound of his stomach loudly rumbling.

He groaned annoyedly and tried to keep his eyes shut and fall back asleep, but his stomach was too empty and angry to let him fall asleep again. Giving up, Robbie tossed his pillow off the bed along with his sheets, sitting up slowly. His stomach still felt sore, and he could swear he still felt a stinging pang of nausea somewhere in his gut. He cringed and let another wave of nausea pass over him. Luckily, it was less painful than what he felt earlier. Maybe he was finally regaining his energy.

Getting up onto his feet, Robbie strode over to his kitchen. He dug through his cabinets and fridge, looking for something whose aroma or taste wouldn’t immediately send him running back to his bathroom. He settled on some stale smelling crackers and a glass of cola. The crackers tasted pretty bad, but Robbie did admittedly feel a little better having something in his stomach. Carrying another plate of crackers and his glass towards his recliner, he sat back and got himself comfy, tugging another blanket over his lap. He sighed, feeling peaceful and relaxed. It definitely helped that his crow “friend” was nowhere to be seen. Probably was still taking care of his bald wing.

Chewing on another cracker, Robbie took a sip of cola. It tasted far too strong and sweet, making Robbie gag slightly. He stuck out his tongue at his beloved soda. He knew that that day was going to be tough if you can’t even stomach delicious, tantalizing soda pop. He set the glass aside and settled into his chair, staring thoughtlessly at the ceiling.

_“Robbie are…are you feeling okay?”_

Robbie grunted and screwed his lip. He gave a firm reminder to his brain that, if he wanted to feel better, being reminded of yesterday’s encounter with the witch was not a productive course of action. He twisted over to his side and tried to block out the memories of yesterday.

_“Robbie, please…can we talk about this? “_

Robbie bit his lip and groaned. He grabbed a pillow from the floor and pressed it against his ear. He did _not_ want to consider the thought his brain was pressing for him to entertain. The idea that, perhaps, the witch could possibly be telling the truth. That he really had no intention to harm him or the town. There was no possibility of that. That witch was evil and he _had_ to get rid of him as soon as possible, if it was even possible.

_“Here Robbie, we can go to my place. I can keep an eye on you and help you until you feel better!”_

Okay, he knew _that_ memory wasn’t real. Why would his mind even make him _think_ that the witch would say something like that? He hmphed then buried himself deeper into his blanket, pretending that the blanket was a sort of anti-witch shield, or at least a shield against stupid and unwanted thoughts. Shutting his eyes, he tried to fall back asleep.

\--

The orange trees stretched on for what seemed like miles, and the sight of that many oranges ripe and ready for the picking made Sportacus’s eyes twinkle. It was a near heavenly sight as they began their trek through the rows between the trees. He could hear birds rustling in the leaves above them, and fallen oranges bounced off his feet, rolling across the ground as they walked along.  
“I’ve never seen so many oranges in my life!” said Sportacus in awe. He stopped to admire the sight, allowing Circe to jump off his shoulder and explore the grounds on her own. He laid his hand against the bark of one of the trees, feeling its sturdiness. He closed his eyes and searched for the energy within the tree. The tree’s life energy pulsed and hummed a healthy shade of yellow. From that alone, Sportacus could tell that Mr. Troubleby’s orchard must produce some of the sweetest oranges one could imagine.  
“Hey! Who goes there?”  
The voice broke Sportacus from his awestruck trance. He spun around, letting out a startled squeak as he came face-to-face with the barrel of a rifle. Holding the rifle was a scraggly looking man, his black hair cut short and choppy, and his scruffy beard rough and untamed. His overalls were caked with dirt and weed clippings.  
Sportacus quickly threw his hands up. “S-Sorry! My name is Sportacus! I’m just here delivering a cake you ordered from Neil!”  
The man slowly lowered his rifle, giving Sportacus a slow blink. He lowered his eyes at the witch. “That’s funny, you don’t look like the usual delivery boy.” He said, his voice deep and worn.  
“N-Neil offered me the job for the day!” Sportacus hastily explained.  
The man then gestured to Sportacus’s broom. “Then what’s the cleaning supplies for?”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened as he held up his broomstick. “I get around on this! You see I’m…I’m a witch.”  
The man slowly lowered his gun all the way, looking at Sportacus in disbelief. “Well I’ll be a son of Adam, a witch in LazyTown…” He gave a single laugh and shook his head. “And I thought my daughter was just making crazy talk.”  
Sportacus’s hands lowered back to his sides. “Your daughter” he asked.  
The man gave a half-smile. “Yeah, Trixie. She told me she saw you flying around yesterday, but I didn’t believe her. Seemed too outlandish to be true, but now I see I was wrong.” He stuck out a dirt-caked hand to the witch. “The name’s Jackson Troubleby, but you can call me Jack.”  
Sportacus took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He smiled. “You have a beautiful orchard, Jack.”  
Jack sighed contently and looked at his many orange trees. “That’s kind of you to say. I find it beautiful as well, but a ton of work.” A thought crossed his mind as he turned back to Sportacus. “Say, you’ve got magic, right? Do you have some time? I would sure appreciate some help in harvesting this part of my orchard. My daughter usually helps me, but I gave her the day off today. I’ll pay you for your trouble, if you don’t mind being paid in oranges.” He said with a laugh.  
Sportacus’s face lit up. “For oranges? I can definitely help out!”  
Jack handed him a basket. “Great, then let’s get started. The day ain’t getting any longer.”

For the next hour and a half, Sportacus walked up and down the rows of orange trees with Jack, chatting along the way about their lives and about Jack’s family. At each tree they’d stop, Jack directing Sportacus to wait below with his basket. Jack would then proceed to pick oranges and drop them below, Sportacus catching each orange as it fell. Circe followed along closely, watching the falling oranges.  
“As you can see, this is why it takes most of the day. I’d invest in one of those fancy harvesting machines, but we’re such a small farm, it’s too expensive.” Jack commented.  
Sportacus tapped the side of his head in thought. He grinned as he looked back up at Jack. “Head back down here. I think I’ve got an idea.”  
Jack, looking skeptical, hopped down from the tree. Sportacus skipped over to the tree, gripping its trunk with his hands. He gave it a firm shake, pouring his magic briefly into his arms and hands. The orange sprung free from their branches, falling speedily to the ground.  
Jack, nervously, ran towards the tree with his basket extended out in front of him. “Hey, watch it! You’re going to dent all the fruit!”  
With a smirk, Sportacus whispered the verbal command for “float”. Instantly, the oranges froze in mid-air, stopping mere inches above the ground. Jack’s mouth dropped open, his eyes fixed on a single orange that stopped in front of his nose.  
“Well…I can see you were serious about having magic.” Jack said near breathlessly.  
Sportacus gave a grin to the farmer. “Do you think this would help speed things along?”  
Jack plucked an orange from the air and placed it gently in his basket. Beaming, he gave a smile to Sportacus. “I don’t think that’s even a question, Sportacus. You’re a miracle worker, friend.”

The two men walked down the rows of oranges, catching oranges and plopping them into their baskets. Jack left momentarily to grab a cart, piling oranges into the wagon. They continued to talk as they harvested oranges.  
“Trixie is a sweet kid, but I think…well I think she’s got something going on. She keeps acting up, and loves trouble. I try to help her, but nothing I try works.” Jack said quietly. He sighed. “The poor kid. I know it’s at least partly from her mother passing away a few years ago. I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she refuses to open up.”  
Sportacus nodded solemnly. “I can only imagine how hard it is to lose a parent. A friend of mine when I was a kid lost their dad during a battle.”  
Jack looked at Sportacus curiously. “And what did his family do?”  
Sportacus thought for a moment. “Well…I remember his mom talking a lot about his dad with him. Have you talked to Trixie about her mom since she passed?”  
“No…I’ll admit talking about her is painful for me too.” Jack said softly. He nodded. “I’ll try that with her.”  
They continued to harvest fruit and pile it into his wagon. Sportacus paused before talking to Jack again.  
“Hey Jack, could I ask for some advice? Suppose you want to try and reach out to someone, but they don’t like you for a reason that isn’t accurate. What would you do?” he asked.  
Jack looked down and thought for a while. “Well, I suppose a good place to start is to apologize if you think you might’ve hurt them in some way. See if that opens them up, then try to talk out the misunderstanding. If that hasn’t happened, then maybe try to connect with them on a common interest?”  
Sportacus bit his lip thoughtfully. He realized he didn’t know what Robbie liked, so he had no clue how to reach out through that method. He also wasn’t sure if he necessarily did anything wrong, but he might as well try. He smiled. “I think…I think I’ll try that. Thanks Jack!”

Another half an hour later, and both Sportacus and Jack had picked each of the oranges in that part of the orchard. Jack brushed the sweat from his brow and grinned happily at Sportacus.  
“In all my years of doing this, I’ve never picked an acre so quickly. All thanks to you!” he said warmly.  
“It’s no problem, Jack! It was a lot of fun, actually. If you need help with the other parts of the orchard, I’m more than willing to help!” Sportacus said cheerily.  
“I may have to take you up on that offer.” Said Jack with a smile. Grabbing a basket, he filled it to the brim with oranges. He handed it to Sportacus. “And here’s your payment, as we agreed upon.”  
Sportacus gasped and happily took one of the oranges out of the basket. He sniffed the skin, detecting the faint citrus smell. He took a bite out of the orange, skin and all, and chewed on it with relish.  
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Um, alright then. I don’t think you’re supposed to…I’ll just assume that’s a witch thing then.” He said, devolving into a mumble.  
“Your oranges taste as good as they smell!” commented Sportacus.  
“I’ll take your word on that. Thanks again for your help.” Said Jack with a faint smile, ignoring the fact the witch continued to eat the orange with the skin still on.  
Finishing his orange, Sportacus wiped the juice onto his arm and hung the basket off his broomstick. He whistled for Circe, who hopped onto his shoulder. As he floated up into the air, he waved goodbye to Jack, who watched them fly off in awe.

As Sportacus and Circe flew back high into the sky, Sportacus eyed the basket thoughtfully. An idea popped into his mind.  
“Circe, can you see where Mr. Rotten’s house is? I think we’ll stop by there real quick.” He asked.  
Circe looked at Sportacus skeptically before giving a slight nod. “Let me just search for a magic trail. That should give me a good idea of where to go.” She closed her eyes, her whiskers frizzing as her magic coursed through her body. Circe’s eyes sparkled as she opened them once more, a ring of blue magic shining across her face. She gazed upon the city. Most of the buildings’ auras were a mixture of gray or dull brown. But one building stood out from the rest, in that it glowed a bright purple with a mixture of maroon.  
Pointing a paw towards the building, she said, “I think that’s our best bet. It’s the only building with a strong magic presence.”  
Sportacus scratched behind Circe’s ear, eliciting a purr from the feline. “Thanks, buddy.” He said happily.  
Circe looked up at Sportacus with concern. “You sure you want to do this? I mean, do you even know what you’re doing?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “No, but I’ve got a plan. I’m not sure if it’ll work, but it’s worth a try. Better to try something than do nothing, right?”  
“I guess so?” relented Circe.  
Sportacus smiled. “Good, then let’s head over – WOAH!” he said, crying out as something white zoomed past his vision. Circe hissed and yowled as it splattered against her fur. She sniffed it angrily.  
“Whipped cream! Who dares to assault me with whipped cream?!” she asked furiously.  
Sportacus looked down at the ground, spotting a pair of heads ducking inside an alleyway. “I may have an idea.” Sportacus noted, giving the culprits a look and a head shake.

\--

Ziggy’s face paled as he realized who he’d nearly hit with the whipped cream pie.

Trixie, breaking out of her trance, gave Ziggy a firm smack across the back of his head.  
“Ow! What was that for?” asked the blonde boy.  
“You dummy! You almost hit Sportacus! Do you really want to mess with the town witch?” asked Trixie annoyedly.  
“Nice screwing up as usual, Ziggy.” Stingy added.  
Ziggy pouted and shot a look at Stingy. He turned his head up towards the sky as Sportacus called after them.  
“Hey kids! Might want to be careful with your aim! You almost hit me and my cat!” he shouted.  
“Sorry Sportacus! We’ll be more careful!” Trixie replied. She bumped Ziggy when he didn’t follow up her response.  
“Ouch! I mean, sorry Sportacus!” he said loudly.  
Sportacus gave them thumbs-up. “No problem, kids! Just be more careful next time!” he said, waving at them as he flew off.  
Stingy watched as Sportacus disappeared into the distance. “I want a flying broomstick…” he whined.  
“Well ask your parents for one or something!” Trixie snapped. She turned her attention back towards the road. “We’ve still got one pie left, and we need to make it count. Stingy, you man the slingshot this time. Ziggy’s aim sucks too much.”  
“Hey!” Ziggy protested.  
“Face it Ziggy, she’s right.” Said Stingy as he stepped up to the large slingshot.  
“Maybe, but she doesn’t have to say it.” Ziggy mumbled.  
Trixie hushed the group and pointed to a shadow cast on the ground. “Someone’s coming! Get ready!”

The group fell silent as they listened. Shoes clacked against the pavement as the figure drew closer.  
“Take aim…” Trixie said in a hushed tone.  
Stingy pulled back on the sling, the rubber creaking in protest.  
The steps grew louder.  
“Almost…” Trixie said.  
A few steps more.  
“FIRE!” Trixie cried.  
Blindly, Stingy let go of the payload, hearing it zip through the air and land with a satisfying _squish_.  
The trio turned to look at their target, and Trixie’s face went pale.

Standing in the middle of the street, her pink hair and skirt covered with yellowish-white cream, was Stephanie. She looked in horror at her ruined outfit, her eyes watering with tears.  
“Got her!” cheered Stingy quietly.  
“Yeah! We got her!” Ziggy said more loudly.  
Trixie remained quiet.  
Stephanie turned towards the sound of Ziggy’s cheers, seeing the trio hiding behind the boxes. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she yelled, “You guys are so mean! Now I have to go home and clean up! Thanks a lot!” she said, running back the other way as she cried to herself.  
“Pinky! Wait!” Trixie called after her, but it was too late. Stephanie was already out of earshot.  
Seeing as running after her was not an option, Trixie instead turned her attention to her cheering comrades.  
“You idiots! What was that for??” she asked angrily.  
Stingy and Ziggy looked up at her with shocked expressions.  
“What are you talking about, Trixie? This was the whole plan! We got someone square in the face with a pie! It went perfectly!” Stingy asked.  
“W-Well, I didn’t say to hit _her_!” Trixie replied in annoyance.  
The two boys looked at each other in confusion.  
“Why not her?” Ziggy finally asked.  
A shade of pink rose to Trixie’s cheeks, which she shook off. “Never you mind! Just, s-she’s off the target list, okay? I’m the leader so what I say goes, right?”  
“Right…” Stingy agreed slowly.  
Trixie waved them towards the alleyway. “Come on, let’s go figure something out to do. I bet there’s some frogs we could fish from the pond. Stick them down a lady’s shirt or something.  
The two boys followed Trixie faithfully, with Stingy still looking at her with suspicion.

\--

If there was one downside to taking long naps, it was just how groggy Robbie felt after waking up.  
And he definitely felt groggy as he stirred from his third or nap for the day. It felt like he had an elephant sitting on every part of his body, weighing him down and leaving him too tired to get up, but too tired to fall back asleep, as paradoxical as that sounded. He groaned as he heard the all too present sound of flapping up in his rafters. How could that darned bird still fly with one wing bare? Or if it couldn’t fly, why did it have the irrepressible need to flap its chicken appendages? Whatever the answers were, Robbie still was growing increasingly annoyed by the flapping sounds and the bird crowing and cawing loudly.  
Even though it’d probably be better to start casting some wards around his home, he decided he’d get out of the house for a while. Both to get away from his noisy house pest and to get some drinks that were friendlier on his stomach. While he did feel a significant amount better than he had earlier, he still didn’t want to chance drinking something super sugary and upsetting it again. Throwing up once was enough for him, thank you.  
As he skulked over to the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He cringed. His raven black hair was sticking up in all different directions, and the small amount of makeup he usually wore was smeared and gunky looking. His shirt was covered in creases and wrinkles, and disgustingly enough, he could see some stains around his color that he knew was from his little episode last night. As lazy as he felt, he figured he should at least clean himself up a little. He hopped into his bathroom and took a quick shower, washing out the dirt and grime from his hair. After he finished, he stopped at his dresser. Fishing out some clean clothes from his drawers, he was about to snap his fingers before he stopped. No, spinning still sounded like a bad idea. Grumbling, he pulled on his shirt manually.  
After putting on the fresh clothes and brushing back his pompadour, he threw back on his glasses and dug around for his wallet. Right as he picked it up, he heard a knock at his door.

…a knock. At _his_ door?

“Who in the…” Robbie asked himself, as he strode grumpily to his door. He swore, if it was one of those bratty kids playing ding-dong-ditch on him again, he’d have someone’s head. Swinging open the door, he glared out at the space in front of him. No one appeared to be there. Ding-dong-ditched again.

Right before he closed the door, however, his eyes glanced down and spotted something new that sat on his stoop.

\--

“Are you _sure_ this is going to work? I mean, do you know if he even _likes_ oranges?” asked Circe.  
Sportacus shrugged. “I mean, no. But, _I_ like oranges. And I figured hey, if I don’t know what he likes, might as well start with things I know are good and try that first.” He explained.  
“And us hiding on the rooftop accomplishes…?” Circe asked.  
Sportacus opened his mouth to answer, before closing it. He looked at his familiar sheepishly. “I guess to avoid being blasted into the next county if he doesn’t like my gift?”  
“So you know this is a poor plan too.” Circe sighed. “I _so_ can’t wait for his reaction.”  
“Shh, here he comes!” hushed Sportacus, as he spotted the door opening.

Sportacus watched as Robbie looked at the basket in surprise. He couldn’t help but feel concerned for the man as he noticed how haggard and fatigued he looked. How sick _was_ he yesterday?  
He watched with baited breath as Robbie first opened the note that sat on top of the basket. Sportacus was surprised, and admittedly felt a little self-conscious, as Robbie read the note aloud.

_“Dear Mr. Rotten, I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I hope that perhaps you’ll accept this gift and we could try again. I hope you like this present, I bet it’ll help you feel better quicker. Sincerely, Sportacus._

_P.S. We should discuss wards and spells at some point! I bet you know some great ones!”_

Robbie finished reading the note and gave a look of suspicion at the basket. Crouching down, he lifted the towel off the top, revealing the pile of oranges inside. Pulling out one orange, he looked at it with disgust. He heard something up on the rooftops and spotted the tip of the witch’s blue cap. He frowned.  
“Do you think he likes it?” whispered Sportacus.  
“I don’t know, it is a weird gift. Perhaps you should’ve gone with something safer, like a gift card.” Circe suggested.  
Sportacus wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. “But this is much more personal! Besides, who doesn’t like getting sportscandy as a g –“  
“Hey, witch!” yelled Robbie.  
Sportacus stood to his feet. “Yes, Mr. Rot –“ he replied, before quickly dodging an orange lobbed at him.  
“I thought I told you to get out of town! And if you think this gift will make me change my mind, news flash: I HATE FRUIT!” Robbie yelled, hurling more oranges at the witch.  
As Sportacus dodged more fruit, he picked up Circe and held her close to his chest.  
“Just your luck that the guy you gifted oranges to hates fruit, huh?” Circe said with a smirk.  
“Circe, shush.” Sportacus said warningly. He turned back to Robbie, giving him the friendliest smile he could muster, considering he was still being bombarded with projectile fruit. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rotten! I just thought that maybe we could try and be friends!”  
“Friends?! In your dreams, you daughter of Houdini!” spat Robbie. “I want you out of town, before you cause any more trouble! Both you and your flea-ridden house pet!”  
Circe hissed in response.  
Sportacus frowned as he grabbed his broomstick. He straddled the wood quickly, clicking his heels and zipping back up into the air.

Seeing that he just earned his first victory against the local witch, Robbie nodded and proudly huffed at the witch. He looked at the note still in his hand. He crumpled it up and was about to throw it on the ground before deciding to stuff it in his pocket.  
“ _Better to not litter._ ” He thought to himself.  
He then glanced down for a brief second at the fruit basket, pondering what to do with it.  
“I’ll just leave it. One of the brats will take the fruit eventually.” He said to himself.  
Sticking his tongue out at both the basket and the space of air Sportacus occupied just a second ago, Robbie turned and walked back inside, slamming the door behind him.

As Sportacus floated off towards the bakery on his broom, his face was stuck in an expression of thoughtfulness and disappointment.  
“Well, that could’ve gone better.” He finally sighed.  
“Hey, you win some you lose some.” Circe commented dismissively, distracting herself with grooming.  
Sportacus didn’t seem soothed by Circe’s comment, as he continued to look at the horizon. His face was stuck in an expression of sad thoughtfulness, his brow knitted down.  
Circe, noticing the sadness in her friend’s eyes, sighed. “Hey, you know, maybe you just need to give it time? I mean, eventually he’s going to see that you aren’t here to cause any harm to him or LazyTown. He’d have to be absolutely bonkers to continue believing what he believes after a few days.”  
Sportacus nodded and gave a warm smile. “Yeah…yeah, I think you’re right. Thanks, Circe. You’re a great friend.”  
Circe laughed. “Hey, don’t start getting mushy on me. We’ve still got a lot to do today, and we have no time for being emotional!”  
Sportacus shook his head and laughed as well. Turning his broomstick towards the center of town, him and his familiar zoomed off to continue their plans of helping those who need them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! Don't worry, Sportacus and Robbie will have more chances to interact in the upcoming chapters. They just have to get past the whole "Robbie explicitly hates Sportacus based on the principle of him being a witch", or at least lighten the hatred a bit. Which will happen, no worries XD
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. A Day In The Life

It had been a few days at this point, and Robbie’s sanity was wearing thin. He had been waiting, _waiting_ for the witch to call upon some form of destruction upon himself and LazyTown. And yet, nothing. The town was still standing, that irritatingly cheerful witch was still around, and Robbie’s composure was slipping. Why was that witch biding his time for so long? Most witches, if they were going to herald in their destructive forces, usually did so within the first three days. They’d see a town with something they didn’t like, either the whole town or a specific resident, they’d sound an alarm, and by the next morning nothing would be left but a smoldering pile of rubble. That’s _why_ witches came and visited towns with a magic population, even one with only one magical resident. And especially if that magical resident was one like Robbie.  Robbie knew perfectly well this is how they operated, despite Sportacus’s opposing claims.

And yet, LazyTown still stood. The sun rose, and the townsfolk would wake up as usual. No rubble, no corpses. Just peace, and an annoyingly chipper witch to greet everyone with an enthusiastic “good morning!”. Well, Robbie wasn’t going to just sit around and wait for destruction to rain upon the town. True, that’s what he’d _usually_ do. He was proudly the laziest man in town, after all. But this was different.

A yawn escaped Robbie’s mouth as he stood in his doorway. Awake and dressed before noon: this should be a crime. But at least he had a few good reasons. He woke up early to begin work on some house wards, mostly due to not being able to sleep that night. He was, for the most part, proud of what he’d managed to create. Most of them were general anti-witch wards, though a few were more specifically tailored for different reactions. Poking, burning, sharp noises. A good collection to start with. Now, his eyes were trained up towards the sky, its color gradually turning to its characteristic blue, interrupted only with a few fluffy white clouds. As the cool breeze blew, he could feel his pristine quaff be slightly brushed out of place, a few strands of black hair flopping with the wind and pricking the sides of his eye. Desperately did he want to smooth his hair back into its place, but his hands were a little full at the moment. He turned his attention back up to the sky.

A sharp pain on the side of his hand nearly had him yelp in shock. He glared at the bundle of feathers in his hands.  
“Hey! Knock it off! I healed your wing, didn’t I? Now I’m making you pay back the favor!” he hissed at the increasingly antsy crow.   
The crow squawked and fluttered its wings useless. It poked its beak once more at Robbie’s finger, leaving a small red mark. Robbie, annoyedly, adjusted his grip on the bird, keeping his hands further out of reach of the crow. Even though he could still feel the crow squirm and wiggle, he looked up at the sky. The blasted witch had to be coming around any second now, right? If the last day or so of observation had told him anything, it was that the witch was a definite morning person. This was a fact that only drove Robbie to get rid of him even more. Not only did the witch refuse to leave and was a constant threat to the town’s existence, but his presence was seriously messing with his sleeping schedule. Robbie took in a deep breath, the anticipation building as he finally spotted the flying blue menace float closer on his broom. He spotted something hanging from the broom. It looked like a wicker basket holding something…ceramic? Must be why the witch is flying closer to the ground than usual. Robbie grinned. This was it, he could feel it.  
As Sportacus drew close to Robbie’s home, he could see the lanky man sticking his nose out of his doorway. Smiling, he waved at the reclusive man.  
“Good morning, Mr. Rotten!” he said cheerily.  
Robbie smirked. “Good morning, Sportabrat.” He replied sarcastically. He quickly looked down at the crow and, with a smile, released the agitated avian. “Now, GO!” he hissed, his fingers fuddling around with a non-verbal spell.

The crow shot off like a bullet, crowing and cawing territorially as it made a beeline for Sportacus.  
The witch gasped and immediately threw his arms and hands up to guard his eyes as the bird scratched and dug at the exposed skin on his arm.  
“Ow! Hey! Come on, that’s not nice!” Sportacus cried, still guarding his face.  
Circe hissed and swiped at the crow, the bird only croaking its response before continuing to assault Sportacus.  
Sportacus cringed as he felt the crow peck at his forehead and scratch his arms. Frantically, he swung his hands forward, producing a weak forcefield. The crow was thrown backwards with a shocked warble.  
“Sorry! You’re just hurting me with your claws! Please, what’s the matter?” Sportacus asked as calmly as he could.   
Flapping its wings, the crow’s eyes briefly flashed a purple color before swooping back down once more, pulling at the witch’s mustache.  
“Augh! Knock it off!” Sportacus said, growing increasingly more annoyed. He needed to get this bird off his back, but how? He thought for a moment, then got an idea. Fishing around in his pocket, he pulled out the leftovers of his breakfast. He offered the breadcrumbs to the crow, who immediately stopped its attack.  
“See? Breadcrumbs! You like this stuff, right?” Sportacus coaxed gently.  
The crow fluttered down and sat on the witch’s broomstick, cocking its head curiously at the offering.  
“Yeah? Okay, I’ll just sprinkle it down here.” Sportacus said with a smile. Carefully he dropped the breadcrumbs onto the ground in a little pile. The crow cawed in delight before flying down to the ground and pecking at the crumbs eagerly.

Robbie’s face dropped. He glared at the bird angrily.   
“Hey! Bird brain! What are you doing? Come on, stop eating!” Robbie said in a frustrated tone, snapping his fingers quickly. A few, sparse sparks of purple buzzed off his fingertips weakly. The bird only stopped momentarily to crow at the man, before turning its attention back to the breadcrumbs.  
“I think he’s distracted for now, Mr. Rotten! You can put him back in his cage now, I bet!” Sportacus said with a cheery look. “It’s no big deal, by the way!” he added, before kicking his heels together and zooming off towards his destination.  
Robbie felt himself seethe, unable to come up with an appropriate retort before the witch departed. Instead, he settled with kicking some of the breadcrumbs off his porch and storming back inside, slamming the door behind him.

\--

Trixie ran down the road, pushing through groups of people as she sprinted towards her destination. The adults that towered above her yelped and yelled angrily as she bolted through their congregations, one man dropping his newspaper as she pushed past. She brushed the loose papers away from her face as she continued to run. She heard the jingling of coins in her pocket, and she quickly stuffed a hand into her pocket, making sure nothing came spilling out.   
“ _Only a few more blocks._ ” She thought to herself as she rounded a corner.  
Her sneakers slapped against the pavement as she broke into another spring down the straightway. As she prepared to run even faster, a shadow descended upon her. With a gasp, she skidded to a halt, slipping down onto her side as she barely missed being hit by Sportacus, who was descending to the ground on his brown.  
Panicked, Sportacus looked over at the girl worriedly. “Are you okay??” he asked.  
Trixie, dusting the dirt off her overalls, stood to her feet and nodded. “I’m okay! See you Sportacus! Gotta run!” she said hurriedly, before bolting once more.  
Sportacus and Circe only gave her a confused look, before looking at each other and shaking their heads, Sportacus doing so with a small smile. He untied the basket around his broom and walked up to the doorstep.

Trixie, meanwhile, finally stopped at the sight of a small white building with a large blue sign. She jogged past the shop’s window, glancing at the display of celebratory cards and knick-knacks. She pushed upon the door, hearing the jingling of bells over her head. She panted as she looked about the store.  
The woman behind the counter looked up in surprise, her springy, dark brown curls bouncing as she lifted her head. She quirked an eyebrow as she peered at the girl who just entered her store.  
“Can I help you?” she asked in a friendly tone.  
Trixie looked up. She carefully collected her thoughts as she nodded. “Y-Yeah! Um, I was wanting to buy some…fancy paper? I don’t know what it’s called.” She said as calmly as she could.  
The woman nodded and smiled. “You mean stationery? Of course, we have quite the selection. Come with me.” She said. Trixie trotted after her, following the woman towards a large display covered in boxes filled with various colored paper and envelopes. Trixie gazed in awe at the lavishly designed paper. She never knew letter writing could get so intricate.  
“We’ve got lots of different themes, perfect for whatever your taste is.” The storeowner explained. She gestured towards a group of stationery, her golden bangles jingling as she did. “We’ve got animals, we have floral prints, we have some more basic designs…” she noted as she pointed to various boxes.  
Trixie bit her lip thoughtfully as she looked at the options. “There’s so much.” She said quietly. She looked at the sales clerk. “Do you have a favorite? I mean, I know it has to be in pink. I just don’t know which one is the best.”  
The woman smiled, and plucked one specific box from the display. “Personally, I’ve always found this one the prettiest.” She said, showing the brilliantly decorated paper to Trixie. Trixie admired the rosy pink parchment, which had a butterfly design on its corner. Examining the box, she gave it an approving nod.  
“It’s absolutely perfect!” she said with a grin.  
“Any particular reason it has to be pink? Is that your favorite color? Because I have many more options in other colors.” Said the woman.  
Trixie blushed slightly and shook her head. “No no, it has to be pink. I’m sure of it.”

The woman gave Trixie a knowing smile as she walked her over to the register. She punched in a few numbers on the cash register, counting Trixie’s money as the back door opened. From the door, Pixel emerged, carrying an armful of metal parts with him.  
“Now honey, be careful with all that. And don’t get grease on your clothes again! Last time you wore your church clothes and I’m still getting the oil out of your dress shirt!” said a voice, the owner of it emerging from the doorway. She brushed some of her own, dark hair from her face, a few straightened locks falling right back.   
Pixel smiled. “I promise mom, I’ll be more careful.”  
The woman gave an affectionate smile. She placed a kiss on Pixel’s head before patting his back. “I know you will honey. Now be good! Tell Mayor Meanswell I say hi!” she said cheerily.  
“I will Mom!” Pixel responded. He paused for a second when he spotted Trixie. “Hey Trixie, what are you doing here?”  
Trixie’s face immediately flushed a bright pink color. “N-Nothing! What are you doing here?”  
Pixel laughed. “My mom works here! I thought you knew that?”  
“I did! I just wondered why you’re just standing here!” Trixie fumbled.  
“Well, I’m talking to you. That’s probably why.” Pixel noted.  
The woman behind the counter handed Trixie her stationery. Trixie took it and tucked it under her arm before making a dash towards the door.  
“Hey, what’s the stationery for? I didn’t think pink was your color –“Pixel asked.  
“None of your beeswax, Pixel!” Trixie retorted, before bolting out the door.

Pixel, left confused, simply shrugged before going out the same door.  
The second woman chuckled and walked over towards the clerk, wrapping an arm around her waist.  
“I remember being just like her at her age.” She noted.  
The clerk looked at her with a raised brow. “Oh yeah? I never took you to be a “in denial over a crush” type, Kaya.”  
Kaya smirked and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure most go through that kind of stage when they’re young, Evie. The only difference is eventually I just owned up to it.”   
Evie leaned up and placed a kiss upon Kaya’s cheek. “And I’m glad you did.” She said with a warm smile.  
Kaya rolled her eyes. “I figured you’re a “mushy romantic” type.” She said.  
“What? I was being honest!” Evie responded, faking an offended expression.  
Kaya grinned and leaned in close to Evie. “I know, I just like messing with you.” She said, before giving her wife a kiss on the lips.

\--

“Oh Milford, hold still! I’d be done quicker if you just held still!”  
Mayor Meanswell stood stiff as a board, his arms up and out at his sides. He felt himself shake a little as Ms. Busybody wrapped her measuring tape around his bicep. She nodded and jotted down a number.  
“Apologies, Ms. Busybody! I…I must just be nervous.” He stuttered.  
“Well, no need to be! Everyone gets measured at least once in their lifetime, and if you’re feeling self-conscious then don’t be! You’re going to look fantastic in this pilot jacket regardless!” she responded.  
“What? Oh, no! No, I’m not…I-I’m not feeling self-conscious.” Mayor Meanswell said. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but glance at himself in the mirror. He sighed quietly; he had put on a bit of weight over the last few years. No place better than at a fitting to remind you of how your body changes in time.  
“Alright, then what’s gotten you so jittery? Come to think of it, you looked pretty uneasy when you first entered my shop.” Ms. Busybody asked, turning to rifle through a few choices of fabric.  
Mayor Meanswell gulped, and cleared his throat. Well, no better time than the present.  
“W-Well, Ms. Busybody. I was just…just wondering…” he said.  
“Uh huh, do you prefer this blue or perhaps this yellow?” she asked, holding up two swatches of fabric and not looking over.  
“Um, the yellow please. I was just going to ask if – “  
“How do you feel about this fur trim? I think it’d compliment your skin tone nicely.”  
“Oh my! Well, if it’s not real fur then that’d be okay. But I really need to – “  
“I don’t think I have enough fur for the jacket trim.” Noted Ms. Busybody. “I’ll have to order more –“  
“Ms. Busybody wouldyouliketogoonadatethisfriday?” Mayor Meanswell spat out in exasperation.

Ms. Busybody’s eyes grew wider. She gently placed down her notepad and fabric swatches as she slowly turned to look at the mayor.  
“What…did you just ask…?” she said softly.  
Mayor Meanswell fumbled about his pockets, and pulled out two slips of paper. “I heard you really wanted to see _Canoes of Passion_ and I got two tickets to the opening night! I was hoping you’d, maybe, want to join me? W-We could have dinner and…”  
“Oh Milford! That’s so thoughtful! Of course, I’ll join you!” Ms. Busybody said ecstatically.  
Mayor Meanswell blew a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I – “  
“Save it for later, Milford. I need to find an appropriate outfit!” Ms. Busybody interrupted as she pushed the mayor towards the door. “Pick me up around 5:30, okay?”  
“Oh, uh, o-okay! Then, it’s a date! I’ll, um, see you then!” Mayor Meanswell stumbled, as he was led outside.  
“Tah tah! See you opening night!” Ms. Busybody said, giving the mayor a wink as she closed the door.

Mayor Meanswell sighed contently as his niece approached him, a wide smile on her face.  
“So…how’d it go?” she asked expectantly.  
Broken out of his trance, Mayor Meanswell turned to Stephanie. “Oh! Well, I believe it went swimmingly! I’ve got a date with Ms. Busybody!” he said excitedly.  
Stephanie gasped and hugged her uncle. “That’s awesome! I’m so proud of you, Uncle Milford! I knew you could do it!”  
Mayor Meanswell hugged her back. As he returned her hug, he gave a brief wave to Sportacus, who he saw flying overhead.

\--

Sportacus waved back, giving the mayor a smile as he flew past.  
Circe yawned. “Are we ready for a break? We’ve been running errands all day. Can we get lunch?”  
Sportacus nodded. “Good idea! Why don’t we stop by the bakery? We can get some of the bread you like, and Stephanie told me that Neil makes the most delicious sandwiches.”  
Circe licked her chops. “Say no more, just steer us that way.”  
Sportacus chuckled and turned his broomstick down towards the ground. They landed gently on the ground. Sportacus walked through the door, his senses being immediately hit by the sweet and soothing aroma of freshly baked bread, the sickeningly sweet scent of icing, and a hint of the savory smell of deli meats. Jives was laying half on the counter, half on the ground, his mouth gaped open as he snored unapologetically loud. Spread out on the counter were multiple pieces of lined paper, each covered with a varying number of notes and scribbles. As Sportacus approached, he nearly jumped as one of the books toppled off the counter and hit the ground with a loud thud. The sound jolted Jives awake, as he quickly stood up and swung around frantically, his eyes bugged out and alert.  
“WOAH! Giant gummy bears!” he shouted frantically, swinging his arms around at the invisible, sentient treats.  
Sportacus simply chuckled while Circe rolled her eyes. He knelt down and picked up the book. “Not gummy bears, I believe. Just… _Metamorphosis_ by Franz Kafka?” he said, looking curiously at the title.  
Jives, finally settling down, laughed as he shuffled the papers on the counter. “Heh, yeah it’s for a school project. Thought maybe I could absorb the book through osmosis, but I think the frequency on my dreams is a bit off. I don’t know much about what happens in the book, but I’m pretty certain giant killer gummy bears aren’t part of it.”  
Sportacus shrugged. “It’s been years since I’ve read it, but considering the magical realism in the story, there’s a chance they’re in it!”  
Jives raised an eyebrow. “Magical _what_?”  
“If you actually read the book, you’d know.” Commented Circe.  
Sportacus shot his familiar a look. “You can quit the snippiness, Circe. That’s not nice at all.”  
Jives snickered under his breath. “Man, it’s cool you can actually talk to your cat. If I could talk to my dog Oscar, I totally would.”  
“Trust me, dogs have little to talk about. They sniff each other’s butts; do you really think they have deep and insightful thoughts?” Circe stated.

Jives nodded at the cat’s meows and chirps. “Heh heh, yeah it’d be awesome, wouldn’t it Mrs. Pussycat?”  
Circe lowered her ears and frowned.  
Sportacus gave her an apologetic look before addressing Jives. “Do you have any sandwiches ready by chance?”  
Jives’ eyes widened and a grin set on his face. “You bet! Freshly made too.” He dug his way through the display case, pulling out trays of carefully made sandwiches. The bread was freshly baked, the crust a golden brown and its aroma sweet and mild. The meats looked fresh and smelled divine, the vegetables that were stuffed inside vibrant and crispy looking. Sportacus took in a whiff, and smiled as he smelled a slight hint of spicy mustard on one of the sandwiches.  
“I know, they look awesome, right?” Jives said with a smile. “Any that catch your eye?”  
Circe immediately leapt off of Sportacus’s shoulder and, biting down on it with her teeth, dragged a turkey and brie sandwich off the tray and onto the counter, nibbling on the crust.  
“I guess we’re taking that one.” Sportacus said with a smile and a head shake.  
“She’s got good taste, that’s my favorite one.” Jives remarked. He gestured to the pastries. “May I interest you in some dessert to go along with it, my good sir?” he said goofily.  
Sportacus was about to politely decline Jives’ offer, before he paused. He glanced over at the brightly lit display full of colorful, intricately decorated cakes and treats. He bit his lip as he gave a look over at the selection. He looked back at Jives. “Hey, you know Mr. Rotten pretty well, right? Would you happen to know what he likes best?”  
Jives grinned. “Ol’ Rotten man? Sure, I know it like the back of my hand!” He quirked an eyebrow at the witch. “You trying to woo him with sweets?”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and he chuckled nervously. “N-No, nothing like that. I was just trying to make it up to him after my last attempt to…apologize went so badly.”  
“Man, what did you do?”  
Sportacus gave an embarrassed laugh. “I, uh, tried to gift him some oranges from Troubleby farm. He didn’t appreciate that.”  
Jives shook his head. “Dude, of COURSE he didn’t like that! Mr. Rotten HATES fruit and vegetables!” He stopped, cringing slightly. “Of course, you wouldn’t have known that…”  
“And that’s why I’m hoping this will work a bit better. So, what’s his favorite treat?” asked Sportacus.  
Snapping his fingers, Jives nodded. “Wait here good sir, I’ve got just the thing.” He said, before ducking through the back door to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Jives emerged with what Sportacus believed was the most decadently decorated slice of cake he’s ever seen in his life. The cake was made of white vanilla batter, filled with strawberry filling and slathered with chocolate icing. Three flower blossoms, two fondant butterflies, and a swirl of strawberry icing decorated the top. Even though he couldn’t eat sugar, the sight made Sportacus’s mouth water.  
“ _Voila_ , the May Flowers cake. Our specialty here at the Johannes bakery.” Jives said with a proud smile.  
Sportacus gazed at the pastry, awestruck by the craftsmanship that obviously went into its very creation. “I can see why this is his favorite.” He said, his voice slightly more hushed than usual.  
Jives then swiftly pulled out a box and placed the cake carefully inside. Shutting the lid, he tied the box in ribbons of pink, blue, and purple, creating an elegant bow on top. He then gently pushed the box towards Sportacus.  
“Our treat. No one can put a price on a potential friendship.” Jives said. He gave a cheeky wink and a smirk. “Or more.”  
Sportacus immediately felt a shade of embarrassment, his face turning pink. “It’s not like that, Jives!”  
Jives stuck his hands up. “Just kidding!” He laughed. “But seriously, the slice is on me. Hope this works out better for you, my witch man.”  
Sportacus picked up the box and smiled. “Thanks, Jives!” he said, taking the sandwich with him. Circe quickly jumped onto his shoulder as they ran out the door.  
“So is it like that, Sportacus?” Circe asked with a sly smile.  
Sportacus frowned. “Shut up, Circe.”  
Jives shook his head and picked up his book once more. He cleared his throat, settling in to seriously read this book. He was going to learn Kafka, if it was the last thing he did.

“ _When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams_ _…_ ”

That’s as far as Jives got, before he once again slipped into a deep sleep.

\--

“Hey. Hey, Jives. Wake up.”  
Jives snored in response.   
“Jives…”  
Jives sputtered and snored once more.  
“JIVES!”  
Jives shot upright, his eyes bugging open.  
“AH! GIANT EXISTENTIAL BUGS!” he yelled.  
Robbie jumped backwards. “What are you talking about?!” he said annoyedly.  
Jives blinked, his hands gripping the counter. He shook his head, the horrified look quickly being replaced by his trademark, silly half-smile.  
“Woah, sorry Mr. Rotten my man, just having some crazy dreams.” He said without shame.  
“And I care, why?” Robbie retorted grumpily.  
Jives giggled. “Because man, the best part of dreams is when you share them with each other! Even if they’re crawling with insect men.”  
“Save me another lecture on dream philosophy.” Robbie said, rubbing his temple. “Look, I’ve had a pretty terrible day, so I’d like to just get my cake and leave.”  
Jives finally got a good look at the lanky man. He noted how Robbie’s usually, pristine hair was ruffled and messed up, water dripping from its ends. He spotted a hole torn in his trousers, where a fresh scrape was present. Finally, he noted Robbie’s knuckles, which were red and irritated.  
“Geez, what happened? Did you get in a fight with Aqua Man?” Jives asked with a chuckle.  
Robbie glared at the teen and exasperatedly sighed. “No, but I did get a bucket of water dumped on me by Pixie’s brat brigade, the crow in my house pecked at my hands when I grabbed it, and I tripped over a toy left behind by, guess who, those _brats_.”  
Jives set down a coffee cup, filling it with the pure black liquid. “Man, that is a pretty gnarly day. My apologies, my Rotten man.”

Robbie sighed once more, burrowing his face into his hands. “And yet, on top of that all, I still have to deal with that _witch_.”  
“Sportacus?”  
Robbie gave Jives a look. “No, I mean the one with a bright red bow on her head, looks about twelve YES I mean Sportacus!”  
“Man, I don’t get it. Why do you want him out so badly? He seems pretty chill to me.” Jives asked.  
Robbie shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? Witches bring nothing but trouble.”  
Jives sighed. “I don’t know, dude, Sportacus is pretty cool. My dad likes him a lot, and I know most of the others like him too. He’s helped a lot of people already, given how recently he got here.”  
“You don’t understand, witches bring _chaos_ and _destruction_ to towns like ours. They lull you into a false sense of security then…then the whole town is…” he said, stopping and shuddering as something flashed into his mind. He shook his head. “You get the picture.”  
Jives chuckled. “Now you’re sounding like that old coot Ehrman.”  
“DID YOU NOT HEAR WHAT I SAID?” Robbie asked loudly.  
Jives covered his ears. “Geez dude, don’t need to get shout-y like that.” He paused.   
Robbie ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head, sighing. “Look, I just don’t get why _no one_ except Ehrman is even the least bit concerned about a strange witch, who by the way is _way_ too old to be starting his journey of discovery, just arriving in our town and immediately helping anyone who asks it of him. Doesn’t that strike you as just a bit weird?”  
Jives paused, and looked down thoughtfully. “I mean, I guess when you put it like that it sounds weird. But maybe he’s just being a good person? Like, this world can be pretty awful, and full of awful people. I know it dude, I’ve been here long enough to experience it.”  
“You’re not even voting age yet.” Robbie retorted.  
“My point still stands.” Jives continued. He shrugged. “All I’m saying is, maybe it’s not so bad to believe that there are people who are just fundamentally trying to be good. I’d think that’s kind of, you know, refreshing. You get me, Mr. Rotten?”  
Robbie frowned. “Glad you can be so optimistic, but that’s not for me. While you all dance around like ninnies, I’ll actually keep my eyes open.” He shook his head. “But for the time being, I just need some cake. Get me my usual.”  
Jives gave him a half-smile. “Coming up my Rotten man!” he said, almost like he hadn’t just engaged in the rather dark and thoughtful debate a moment prior. As he walked towards the back door, he stopped, his body stiffening as he remembered something. Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, he looked at Robbie with embarrassment. “Uh, my apologies Mr. Rotten, I just remembered I sold your slice to someone else already.”  
Robbie’s looked at the teen with a cool expression. “So you have. To whom?”  
Jives cringed as he softly and sheepishly answered, “I sold it to Sportacus.”  
The teen didn’t know if he should’ve been relieved when Robbie’s expression didn’t change upon hearing his response. But at the very least, he did know he felt like icicles were forming down his spine as the man simply nodded.  
“Very well. I’ll be on my way then.” He said, his voice a bit too calm. He turned and walked towards the door.  
“W-Wait! Sportacus bought the cake for – “Jives fumbled.  
The door slammed shut.  
Jives ran a hand through his hair. “Oh geez, I totally screwed up, didn’t I?”

\--

That did it. Sportacus had officially taken his already awful day and made it even _worse_.

Sure, in all respects, him not getting his favorite slice of cake was pretty mundane and, dare he say it, not worth what he was thinking about doing. But this wasn’t _just_ about cake. The cake was merely the tipping point, the straw that broke the camel’s bake in other words. No, what Robbie was about to do was a culmination of all his frustration that had built up over the last few days. The annoyance, the anger, the fear. It all boiled and simmered into a solution that resulted in this string of actions.

As Robbie exited the shop, he scanned the skyline for the distinctive blue that witch seemed to love. He had to be around here somewhere, if not now then later at least. He looked over to his right and, bingo. The witch was chatting with the mayor and his pink-haired niece, for once not flying over the heads of all the citizens, like he was above them or something that Robbie assumed. Robbie ducked into an alleyway, watching from the shadows and waiting for the witch to get back on his broom. He twiddled his fingers against the brick wall, lowering his eyes and mentally willing the witch to stop his conversation and hop back on his accursed broom.  
A butterfly floated aimlessly by Robbie’s head. He only glanced away long enough to shoo away the insect.  
Once he glanced back, his endless willing seemed to pay off. Sportacus waved goodbye to the mayor and the pink one after making one last comment to the girl. With a kick of his heels, his broom floated up into the sky, preparing for his takeoff.   
He had gotten an idea when he first spotted the witch. An idea that just might give him the advantage he needed and a perfect way to get the witch out so he could take more time to guard his own home and town from future visits. He knew, from what his mother taught him, that one of the most important things a witch owns is their broom. Well, perhaps he could just, for a little while, take control of the broom. Make that flippity witch a little spooked. Perhaps to the point that he'd abandon his broom, which Robbie could then crash into the nearby mountains. Without his broom, Sportacus would have to leave town for a while to get materials to create a new one. Maybe, much to Robbie's hope, he'd decide returning was too much effort and he'd never come back.

Keeping the hope in mind, Robbie gritted his teeth and focused his magic straight at the broom, vaguely sensing the natural magic that pulsed through the wooden handle. A bright, royal blue color; a fairly rare color for a magic source. He ushered some of his magic forth, feeling it course along the ground and ensnare itself around the blue magic essence. Clenching his fists, he fastened the magical knot around the broom. It was finally under his control.  
"Right." he said under his breath, pointing his finger towards the right.  
Instantaneously, the broom jerked to the right, catching Sportacus off guard and nearly knocking his flea-ridden familiar off his shoulder.  
"Sportacus! What's the big idea?" asked Circe disgruntledly.  
"Are you okay, Sportacus?" asked Stephanie.  
Sportacus glanced down at his broom before he gave the girl a smile. "I'm okay! I don't know what happened. It must just be acting up, for some reason."  
Robbie snickered and pointed towards the left, watching with joy as the broom shot to the left. This was so cathartic for him, and a million times more entertaining than making the stupid crow bald.  
Sportacus's goggles fell onto his face as he clenched onto his broom for dear life. Circe hissed, leaping onto Sportacus's right shoulder to prevent being launched into the ground.  
The witch only had a moment to adjust, slipping his goggles back onto his head, before Robbie whispered, "fly". Immediately, the broom bolted forward, threatening to send Sportacus flying off the broom with his familiar in tow.

Circe yowled and dug her claws into Sportacus's shoulder as they rushed past the buildings and streets of LazyTown, flying higher and higher into the sky. Sportacus leaned forward, desperately wrapping his arms around the wooden handle, forcing his eyes shut as the blistering wind stung his eyes. He grabbed his goggles and slid them over his face, opening his eyes as he leaned close to the broom.  
"Broom! What's going on? What are you doing??" he asked fearfully. He tried to swing the broom another direction, but his transport seemed content to just fly higher into the air, swerving towards the town's boundary lines.  
Robbie had teleported closer to the edge of town as he watched Sportacus's broom fly further out of sight. He was, admittedly, a little surprised that Sportacus hadn't jumped ship yet, considering how far he was making the broom fly. His plan to bust the broom into splinters against the mountain side was definitely out, but perhaps he could jinx the broomstick to keep flying further and further away. Same idea, different execution.  
Gesturing forward, he muttered, "Keep flying.".  
But much to his surprise, the broom instead turned around, and Sportacus was flying back towards town.  
Robbie's nose twitched from confusion and annoyance. "Come on! What's wrong with you, you stupid hex?!" he said, gesturing more furiously back towards the boundary lines.   
Disconcertingly, he felt something roar and buzz in his magic connection. With a shout, Robbie was sent skidding back a few feet. He dug his feels deep into the ground, preventing himself from being flung into a wall. He realized at that moment that he had screwed his eyes shut, and when he opened them, his mouth dropped open.  
The broom was still moving. It had turned down towards the ground. At way too steep of an angle. _Still going at flying speed_.  
Robbie's face paled. He began to frantically gesture back up towards the sky, to no avail. The broom had plotted its course, and nothing he could do could make it change its mind.

"Sportacus! Do something! We're going to hit the ground!" shrieked Circe, her claws digging deeper into Sportacus's shoulder.  
Sportacus frantically gripped the broom’s wooden handle. “Broom! Stop! Fly up!” he said, using verbal commands for the first time in years on his own broomstick.  
The broom didn’t seem to listen, as it instead spun around, threatening to let Sportacus and his familiar go flying up and into free fall. It stopped, thankfully, but continued its trajectory towards the ground.  
“I-It’s not listening to me! I think there’s something wrong with it!” Sportacus said worriedly. He ran a hand down the smooth wood of the broom, closing his eyes and allowing his magic to flow into the ancient wood. It felt normal, at least until his magic collided with something foreign. Something that caused his magic to fizzle and fade away.  
Sportacus looked at Circe. “There’s a hex on my broom! We need to break it, or we’ll crash!” he said.  
He looked up, his face paling as he saw the ground draw closer.  
“Sportacus! How hidden is the hex? Is it pretty obvious?” shouted Circe over the wind.  
Sportacus felt the broom once more. “It’s not hidden at all! I can feel the hex’s energy pulsing quite clearly!”  
Circe lowered her eyes and nodded. “Then this is simple enough to break. Quick, form a triangle with your index fingers and thumbs!”  
“What?!” Sportacus asked.  
“Just trust me! Do it!” Circe said, seeing the ground grow closer and closer.  
Sportacus nodded, and formed the triangular shape. “Like this?”  
“Perfect! Now hold still!” Circe commanded. Her eyes flashed a brief blue color as she muttered, “Evil magic be broken, dark magic presence be banished. You pollute this broom, you are unwelcome.” She raised her paw. “Broom…” She then swept her paw downwards, breaking the triangle Sportacus had formed. “BE CLEAN!” she shouted.

A burst of air erupted from the broom, nearly tossing Sportacus and Circe off its handle. The shockwave reverberated through the air, slicing forward and, much to his ever-present unluckiness, sent Robbie flying backwards and crashing into a big pile of trash bags.  
Sportacus, in a moment of quick thinking, grabbed Circe and held her close with one hand, while the other held onto the broom for dear life. The broom was still spiraling downwards. Sportacus shut his eyes and braced for impact.  
Thankfully, a mere three feet off the ground, the broom finally regained its lift and it ground to a halt. Sportacus and Circe were still thrown off the handle, skidding across the ground as the broom floated nearby. Sportacus laid his head against the ground and breathed a sigh of relief. Circe lifted her head, her eyes wide and terrified as she finally registered that they’d, somehow, landed without even a bruise or a scratch.  
“We’re alive.” Circe noted breathlessly.  
Sportacus only nodded in response. He caught his breath as he continued to lay on the ground. The broom floated over to his right, slowly landing back into his hand. He ran a thumb across its surface, searching for that foreign magic within it once more. Nothing, only its own natural magic coursed through its wood. He sighed and gave a tired smile.   
Slowly, he brought himself to his feet, still holding Circe in his arms. He looked around the vicinity.  
“Who do you think cursed your broom?” Circe asked, even though she knew that the question was pointless. Only one person could’ve done that.  
Sportacus didn’t respond. He walked down towards an alleyway where he thought he’d seen a pair of eyes.  
Robbie sat up, grimacing as he wiped away some garbage that stuck to his clothing and the dirt that stained his pants. He groaned as he brought himself back onto his feet. This day just hated him, didn’t it? He felt his head, feeling a goose egg begin to pop up where he landed. Great, now he’d have to go get some more aspirin. And maybe an ice pack. As he stood, he looked up and spotted the witch approaching him. His face went white. Sportacus was alive, but he did not look happy. Actually, he looked down right _hurt_.

Robbie quickly scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping back down as he brought himself upright. His expression was one of fear as he made eye contact with the witch.  
It was almost like Sportacus understood just what Robbie was feeling, as he paused and took a deep breath, exhaling before he continued forward.  
“Mr. Rotten?” asked Sportacus, his voice not really indicating any sort of ill emotion. Nothing that Robbie could hear, anyways. He wasn't going to stay around to find out if the witch was angry.  
He snapped his fingers, and his form melted into the shadows.  
“Wait, Mr. R – “Sportacus began to say, but he was too late. He was left alone in the alley.

\--

From a puff of smoke, Robbie emerged in his home, the cackling of his crow guest echoing in his ears as his form materialized. He clasped onto the side of his end table, his hand shaking as he tried to gather himself.   
Robbie never thought of himself as a good person. He knew he was bad, and over enough years he had grown comfortable with that fact.   
“ _It’s just not for me. If being good means being perpetually happy, smiley, and energetic, then I’m 0 for 3._ ” He would think to himself. It wasn’t like he was unhappy with the revelation: by being a bad person, it gave him an excuse to hole himself away in his home, eat sweets and other junk food, and just overall be a grump, because no one would expect anything more out of him.  
Despite that, however, he had standards. He had a moral code. One that, by all accounts, was fairly normal if one were to take it apart and examine it.  
Sure, perhaps he had more leniency than normal when it came to being a curmudgeon or acting snippy with people on an off day, but that was minor stuff.  
What he had a strict policy about, however, was murder and maiming.  
Robbie would _never_ stoop to doing something that would permanently injure or kill another being, even if that other being was as dreadful as a witch.

And yet, here he was, trying to collect himself after he nearly murdered the town’s beloved witch.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his mind feverishly tumbling about to create a coherent thought that wasn’t dripping in emotional frays like _oh god did I almost do that_ or _if that witch wasn’t going to kill me at first, he’ll **definitely** do it now_.  
Walking over to his favorite arm chair, he slumped down into its fluffy hold, feeling the orange, shag fabric tickle his ears as he attempted to find some sort of peace. But each time he closed his eyes, he’d be hit with the horrible imagined scenario where the witch _didn’t_ manage to break his hex in time. He’d live the false memory where the witch’s body hit the pavement with a bone-shattering crack, his broom breaking into splinters as his limp form skid across the asphalt, his unconscious familiar following him. He saw the townsfolk converge upon him, chants of “Murderer!” and “Monster!” echoing in his ears.  
Robbie could feel his heart rate pick up, beating in his ears. He breathed in sharp breaths through his nose, trying to calm himself. He tried some breathing exercises and reminders, closing his eyes to focus on his breathing.  
One, two, three…  
He hadn’t murdered someone.  
Four, five, six…  
Sportacus was still alive.  
Seven, eight, ni-  
He was going to be royally pissed. He would come after him. He’d _make Robbie pay_.  
Robbie’s eyes shot open, and his gaze trailed over towards the orange basket on his counter, its contents laying untouched. At some point after Sportacus had given him the gift, he had changed his mind and brought it inside. He wouldn’t touch the darn things, of course, but he didn’t like how it cluttered his porch so better that it sat in his kitchen. Perhaps the darn crow would munch on the fruits.  
Now, though, the fruits almost seemed mocking. Their bright, eye burning, _orange_ color sneering and pointing out how Robbie could’ve avoided all of this in the first place, had he not gotten so angry over _cake_.  
…No. No, that’s not why Robbie cast the spell in the first place. He could be petty, but even that tested his pettiness ability. No, he wanted to rid himself of the pest that had bothered him for days. Sure, not permanently, but for a significant amount of time at least. Perhaps his way of getting out of this guilt-ridden state was to reframe what happened through another perspective.  
He reminded himself, “Sportacus has been the bane of my existence for the last few days. If he was gone, my life would be back to normal and thus, better. If he had hit the pavement, I would’ve succeeded! He would’ve been gone, and I could finally relax.” He clenched his fists. “Instead, he survived! Now I have an angry witch on my hands who could kill me at any moment! THAT’S why I’m so stressed and feeling awful!” he exclaimed. He patted himself on the back. “I knew you could figure it out, Robbie!”  
Except that wasn’t it either. Not entirely at least. He knew that. His nose twitched from the dissatisfaction of his conclusion. Uneasily, he got up from his chair and walked to his kitchen counter, eying the basket and the crumpled note that sat next to it. He carefully picked up the note, smoothing it out and re-reading its message.

_“Dear Mr. Rotten, I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I hope that perhaps you’ll accept this gift and we could try again. I hope you like this present, I bet it’ll help you feel better quicker. Sincerely, Sportacus._

_P.S. We should discuss wards and spells at some point! I bet you know some great ones!”_

Robbie hmphed and put down the note. He felt something twinge in his heart. As misguided of a gift the oranges was, it was still a present. It wasn’t like he was flooded with gifts, either now or at any point in his life. The oranges were the first gift he’d been given in years. His scowl faded slightly.   
A thought crossed his mind: He didn’t want Sportacus dead.   
He shook his head angrily and gave his temple a firm smack.  
“No! Remember, he’s a witch! He’s dangerous! It’d be better if he was dead!” he told himself.  
Standing there, he scowled at the oranges. His eyes dipped down back to the note, his gaze softening. He shook his head and looked away again. Those dangerous thoughts were nipping at the back of his mind, but he would certainly not allow himself to acknowledge them. He crumped the note up once more and tossed it towards his laundry basket.  
He still felt like garbage as he paced his floor. How could he _not_ want Sportacus dead? True, his moral standing made it so he wouldn’t murder the witch, but as he thought more, he realized he didn’t want the witch dead _at all_. Which made no sense. He wasn’t a moron, he listened to his mother well. Witches are bad, witches bring destruction to towns and lay waste to your family. He knew that all very well.  
“ _But this one’s quite different. He doesn’t seem like the witches mother warned us about_.” A snipping thought whispered in the back of his mind.  
He swatted the thought away and growled. He was still not going to go there.  
…still. Still, he had to admit that he felt beyond awful. And frightened. Just because he didn’t want the witch dead, doesn’t mean the witch doesn’t want _him_ dead. He hadn’t really gotten much time to get to know the witch (not like he wanted to), but in this moment, he was at a disadvantage. He couldn’t tell if Sportacus was a vengeful being and if he’d exact revenge for being nearly killed. But considering Robbie’s base knowledge of witches, it wasn’t in his favor. For Robbie, it was just a question of when and where.   
“ _Oh well. I had a pretty terrible life, but I guess if your life’s been terrible up to this point, there’s no point in letting it go on further. This isn’t too bad. At least I have some time to prepare before –_ “Robbie thought to himself.

But before Robbie could let that train of thought continue any further, a knock against his door and a muffled yelp broke him out of his daze.  
His attention snapped right to the front door. A paralyzing fear froze his heart and he could feel the house wards shudder and flash from the contact. Robbie waited one minute, two minutes, ten minutes.  
But nothing more. No additional knocking, nothing trying to break down his door.  
His nose twitched once more out of nervousness. Slowly, Robbie inched his way towards his front door, his eyes fixed upon the wooden door. He watched closely for any motion against the door, any sort of sign that the witch might try to break his wards and barge in, ready to strangle or eviscerate him. But again, nothing.  
“Sportaflop?” he asked anxiously, his voice quiet and shaky.  
No response.  
Carefully, Robbie reached out and turned his door knob. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed open his door, ready to fight back with whatever minimal magic he had left in his arsenal.  
But there was no one at his stoop. Robbie was all alone.  
He glanced about, looking for any sign of the blue and white clad witch, or his pesky cat. But nothing; Robbie was still alone.  
Finally exhaling, Robbie prepared to go back inside before something caught his eye. Sitting on his porch, its bow slightly askew but otherwise still impeccably tied, was the white box Sportacus had with him earlier. The box had a slight dent in its side, most likely from the crash, but otherwise it looked in good shape. Tied to the ribbon was a small paper tag, that simply said, “To Mr. Rotten, from S.”

Robbie cautiously picked up the box, leaning his ear against its side to listen for any ticking noises and giving it a sniff to see if he could smell any poison or weed killer. He heard nothing from the box, and the only scent he detected was the delectably familiar scent of frosting, fondant, and cake. He couldn’t hold back a smile as he recognized the smells. Strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla. It had to be his favorite piece.  
Closing the door with his foot, Robbie hurriedly placed it on his counter, pulling away the ribbon and the box, unveiling the delicious looking, if not smooshed, piece of cake. His mouth watered at the sight, but as he turned the corner to grab a fork, he paused.  
Sportacus had just delivered this cake. After he had nearly killed him. He had given him the cake regardless.  
Robbie slowly laid his fork back down, and he stared at the cake thoughtfully. His originally guilt-ridden thoughts became mixed with a new set of feelings and thoughts, these ones much more confused and slightly indignant. WHY had the witch forgiven him so easily, if this truly was a sign of forgiveness? And even if not, WHY would he still go to the trouble of gifting him a slice of his favorite cake after all he’d done that day?  
Robbie bit down on his bottom lip, and considered the cake for a moment. Slowly, he took his fork and speared a small amount onto its tines. He took a bite, savoring the sweet taste as he pondered this strange reaction on the witch’s part.  
Maybe the witch is oblivious? Possible, though that’s such an easy answer that Robbie figured it couldn’t be the right one. Besides, he did see how initially hurt Sportacus looked, so that couldn’t be it.  
Maybe he’d delivered the cake to the wrong house? Also not possible; the personalized note ruled out that possibility.  
A cruel joke of some form? Intimidation to lull him into a false sense of security before he sent down his allies to kill him? A little more plausible, but why would he go to the trouble of getting his absolute favorite slice? Also, he had the cake box beforehand so that made no sense either.  
Maybe the witch has – no, no that’s a stupid answer. Not going there.  
He frowned, none of the answers either being plausible or ones he wanted to consider. No person could be _that_ forgiving and understanding, especially without an explanation. Robbie took another bite of cake.   
He was too tired to ponder the witch’s gift any further. He soon finished his slice of cake, and after cleaning up his trash he laid down on his bed. He laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to let all the stress and remaining guilt wash out of his body. Hopefully he could come up with a more comfortable understanding and resolution tomorrow.

He soon closed his eyes and fell into a fitful bout of sleep.

\--

_The sun was hanging high in the sky, warming the grasses and forests with its shining rays.  
Robbie laughed as he skipped through the fields, jumping into a crouching position right by the pond. He peered into its clear waters, eying the frogs and small silver fish that swam through the water. Sitting down, he plopped his feet into the cool water, sighing as he felt the cool sensation bring him some relief from the hot summer day. A breeze blew through the woods, and his wings wiggled at the feeling. He giggled as he kicked his feet, sending small waves and splashes of water out in front of him. These were the lazy days he lived for, the ones he’d wait all year for. He laid down on his back and gazed up at the sky, peering at the fluffy white clouds that dotted the expansive blue atmosphere.  
That one looked like a giraffe.  
That one almost looked like a unicorn.  
And that one…_

_Robbie paused, as the silhouetted figure passed overhead. He sat up, twitching his nose nervously as the figure circled and hovered above him.  
“Who could that be?” he pondered. He didn’t see a pair of wings on the flying individual.  
Before he could question any further, he felt himself be pulled backwards into a thicket of bushes. His yelp was muffled by a hand being pressed against his face, his body pulled tight against a familiar form.  
“Muffher?” he asked, his voice obscured by his mom’s hand.  
She hushed her child, her eyes turned up towards the sky.  
The figure dipped a little lower, his feet hitting the tops of the trees. He paused, glancing around. Robbie could hear his mother’s heart beat thumping in his ears. He whimpered quietly, looking up to see the fearful look in her eyes.  
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the figure rose back up into the sky and vanished over the horizon.  
Robbie was still held tightly against his mother’s chest as she rose to her feet. She turned, giving one last look to the sky, before she snuck back towards their little village.  
Robbie pulled away just enough from his mother’s grip to look up at her face.   
“Momma? What’s going on?” he asked fearfully.  
His mother stopped just long enough to give her son a hug. She looked at him, her face betraying the terror and helplessness that she felt. She gave him a weak smile before proceeding.  
“We can talk about it when we get home, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay. I just need you, now listen closely, I need you to promise me you won’t play outside for now. Okay? “she asked softly.  
“But why momma?” he asked.  
She gently stroked the back of his head. “Just promise me that, sweetheart. Please.” She said, her voice begging and on the verge of breaking.  
Robbie’s heart stopped. He had never seen his mother so fearful. At that moment, he dropped all his questions and confusion, and gave a firm nod.  
  
“I promise, momma.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait for this chapter. Life became unexpectedly busy (as it seems to do), so I didn't have the time or energy to work on this fic. Still not sure if I like the ending bit, but hopefully you all enjoyed it. I may come back and edit the last scene with Robbie later, unless you guys think it's fine.
> 
> Either way, thank you for reading!


	5. Blue Becomes Gray in the Rain

While Robbie wasn’t a huge fan of the sunny weather that LazyTown constantly had, he did absolutely love the fact that the constantly warm and sunny days resulted in much stronger storms and rainy days than many cities and countries. Not only did rainy days result in more peace and quiet, but it also gave Robbie the perfect excuse to hole up in his home, eat sweets, and do little other than maybe work on some orders for Bessie’s boutique.

And considering all the thinking he’d had to do lately, the rainstorm currently pounding down on LazyTown was exactly what he needed.

He laid back in his fuzzy armchair, having just woken up from another nap to the sound of the roaring rain. He glanced out his window, seeing the sheets and showers of rainwater thunder down upon the pavement, the droplets only barely visible against the dimly lit buildings and streets. He loved the distinctive sound of heavy rain, a sound both singular yet composed of dozens upon dozens of individual noises, creating a soothingly regular rhythm of water against solid ground. As a wind picked up, the droplets tapped and poked at his windows. He sighed peacefully. What a perfect day.

A day made even better by the fact that he hadn’t seen his crow roommate for the past three days. Granted, Robbie did wonder a little about his avian pest, given how much of a presence it had in his home, cawing incessantly, and tearing at his favorite snacks. Now that it was no longer there, his house almost seemed lacking white noise. But again, without the crow, Robbie’s food remained in one piece and he could focus towards the sound of the rain.   
As he settled further back into his armchair, his eyes lazily drifted towards the kitchen, where he could see a thin stream of steam rising up and condensing on the cupboards. A short second later, a high-pitched whistle broke through the quiet atmosphere. Robbie lifted himself onto his feet, carrying his blanket wrapped around him towards the kitchen. Turning off the burner, he poured the boiling liquid into a purple, ceramic mug that had a teabag sitting in it. He picked up the mug, daintily dipping the teabag repeatedly into the water, and took a whiff of the increasingly aromatic fumes. The faint smell of chocolate filled his nose, eliciting a contented sigh from the man. Whoever was the genius that invented chocolate tea deserved an award.  
As he turned to walk back towards his armchair, however, his attention was caught by the basket that still sat on his counter, its contents left still untouched.

The oranges were still there, though by this point they were looking a little saggy. Their skin was turning a greenish brown and they definitely didn’t look as firm as they had earlier. But they were still there.  
Robbie’s nose twitched as he frowned. His thoughts turned back to the witch. He groaned; the chocolate tea was supposed to _distract him_ from his consistent confusion with the town’s newest resident. Yet here he was, still pondering the irritating magic user.  
It had been a week since the near accident with Robbie’s hex on his broom, and throughout that time Robbie had deliberately tried to spend as little time outside as possible. Not like that was too out of the norm for him though this time he was actually making the effort to avoid being seen by the townsfolk. While hiding away, he continued to ponder the strange offering of cake. He ran over the scenario multiple times, taking different angles and perspectives. At one point, he even tried to view the situation from the witch’s perspective, but that either resulted in him giving the harsh initial answer that didn’t match with the eventual outcome, or him concluding that the witch wasn’t infuriated with him nearly killing him by his own broom, and the cake was an offering of peace. But that didn’t mesh with Robbie’s still present schema about witches; that is, the gift of cake didn’t seem vengeful or like a trap. Robbie had woken up just fine the day afterwards, so no poison. Sportacus didn’t leave him anymore cake after the initial gift, so he wasn’t trying to get him to lower his guard through continuous gifts. So, why then? Just to be nice? Robbie shook his head and frowned, turning his sight away from the decomposing fruit. Too simple and frustrating of an answer.  
  
He took a long sip from the steaming brew, sighing contently as the mildly sweet taste hit his taste buds. Ah, bliss. Though he usually preferred hot chocolate, chocolate tea sufficed in a pinch, and since he’d been cooping himself up in his house he’d neglected to go grocery shopping. Not that he wanted to in the downpour, but he should soon. As he took another sip, he glanced towards the counter, deliberately ignoring the basket of moldy fruit. He, instead, busied himself with looking through the pile of papers that had gathered over the last few days. Bills, junk mail, coupons, more bills. Nothing important. He tossed the junk to the side as his attention was caught by the small, crumpled, handwritten note that sat underneath the stack of mail. His nose twitched. The darn witch’s note still sat there. Going against his better judgement, he set down his tea and picked up the letter once more, sniffing as he gleaned over the words once more.

_“Dear Mr. Rotten, I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I hope that perhaps you’ll accept this gift and we could try again. I hope you like this present, I bet it’ll help you feel better quicker. Sincerely, Sportacus._

_P.S. We should discuss wards and spells at some point! I bet you know some great ones!”_

He frowned. His mind crossed back towards one of the original lines of thought. Was the cake yet another attempt at friendship, or at least mutual understanding like the oranges before? Robbie was forced to admit that the cake was…well, it was at least better thought out. And Sportacus couldn’t have been stupidly lucky enough to just so happen to pick out his favorite slice of cake from the bakery, meaning he asked _specifically_ what his favorite cake was. And that, even after the near fatal accident the other day, he was still willing to present him the pastry.

But again, why? Why was he so determined to be friends with him?

He had mentioned something about wanting to befriend him for being a magic user like himself. That couldn’t just be it though. Again, Robbie cemented the fact that, as a witch, he must have some other agenda, especially for a magic user like himself. Certain magic users, most notably witches, were also capable of distinguishing magical patterns and signatures, so he must know what he is. It’s part of their training, something that Robbie himself never learned how to do, mostly because he couldn’t muster the magical power to read between magic signatures to find their intricate patterns. He could only tell who the magic belonged to, by color. But for Sportacus, there’d be no possibility he _couldn’t_ know.   
So why didn’t he chase him out or try to kill him? It’d been almost two weeks since he’d been in the town; this amount of waiting and baiting almost feels unnecessary. But then again, Robbie knew he couldn’t underestimate the patience and drive of a witch.   
But yet again, didn’t witches usually strike within a few days of spotting an enemy magic user?   
Robbie rubbed his forehead in frustration. Nothing made sense. What answers he concluded with made no sense to him, but given all the evidence presented to him…

Robbie concluded that he needed another distraction. He needed to get out of the house. But with the rain…

He glanced over towards his work table and his face paled. A small stack of scarves sat neat and ready in a plastic bag, a small piece of paper tacked to the handles. Bessie’s delivery; he’d completely forgotten about it.

Groaning, Robbie grabbed his keys and loaded the scarves onto his small wagon. He searched for his raincoat and umbrella, but found them nowhere in sight. He grumbled. Oh well, at least the walk in the pouring rain would give him a reprieve from thinking about his little problem.

Dragging his wagon behind him, Robbie swung open the door and paused to drink in the sounds of the pounding rainstorm, striking the pavement with a series of clicks and splashes. Squinting his eyes, he stepped out from the safety of his entryway, closing the door behind him.

\--

Trixie crinkled her nose and crumped her half-written letter into a messy ball, tossing it into the increasingly large pile by her bed. She sighed exasperatedly, pulling another piece of bright pink paper from the fancy box, tapping the bottom of her pen against the side of her head. She bit her lip as she thought through her words. With a single nod, she set the pen down on the paper and began to write in short, sharply pointed letters.  
“Dear Pinky, Just thought I’d write you a letter because you’re pretty and I like your pink hair – “she said aloud as she dictated the same words.  
She stopped, frowned, and sighed angrily as she crumpled that note as well. Throwing it behind her, she grabbed another piece of pink paper. She was quickly running out of stationery.  
“Hey Pinky, I’m really sorry about the pie yesterday. Wasn’t my fault you just happened to be there at the time. Honestly, we wanted to hit Bessie with it, not you. So really sorry, and I hope we can hang out – “Trixie tried again. She read over the words and grimaced. “No, that sounds really bad.” She crumped that note too.  
Pushing away from her desk, Trixie turned and stared out the window. She glanced momentarily at the pile of discarded letters that formed a tiny mountain on her floor. She buried her face in her hands, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. This should be a lot easier than it is. It sounded simple in principle. Write a letter to Pinky, apologize for what happened a while ago and mention how you want to be friends with her.  
And try not to let it slip how much you admire her friendly demeanor and kindness. Don’t mention her pretty pink hair that reminds you of sunsets, or her smile that lifts your spirits, or how you really would love to hold her hand…  
Gosh dang it.  
Trixie shook her head and gave her head a light hit, unable to stop the flush of pink that rose on her cheeks. She groaned openly, sinking down in her chair. Looking up, she stared at the rain that fell outside. Usually, Trixie hated rainy days like this, because that’d mean she was stuck inside with no one to play with. But considering her plans, not having to deal with her friends Stingy and Ziggy was a godsend. Now she could just focus on writing the perfect letter.

That is, if she could get anything solidly written down.

Trixie sat back up straight, glaring at the white wall in front of her, as if it could pour forth the correct and perfect words for her apology/confession letter. But alas, it was just a wall. Walls, as Trixie knew very well, weren’t palpable wordsmiths.  
She tapped her pencil against the edge of the desk. Her frustrated expression melted as her mental fog cleared. Leaning forward, she began to write once more.  
“Pinky, I’m really sorry about what happened a few days ago. It was a really bad mistake and I feel really bad. I hope you forgive me and we can at least be friends. To be honest, I think you’re sweet and cool and friendly. One of the friendliest in LazyTown, in my opinion. And I really like your pink hair. So, I’m really sorry, and thought maybe we could meet at the bakery – “

Trixie’s writing was interrupted as a firm knock rang against her door, causing her to jump and nearly shriek.

“Trixie? Are you there?” Trixie recognized the voice as her father’s  
Trixie hastily shoved the partly written note under one of her schoolbooks, before turning to the door.  
“Yeah, come in.” she answered tersely.  
The door opened slowly and her father entered in, his overalls spattered with mud stains. Blessedly, he had taken off his caked boots, so no worries about him tracking dirt in her bedroom again.  
“Hey, do you think we could talk?” he asked calmly.  
Trixie looked down and frowned. “I’m kind of busy.” She replied curtly.  
Jackson sighed. “You can’t spare a few minutes? I promise it won’t take long.”  
Trixie chewed on her lip before sighing. “Okay. What’s up?”  
Jackson strolled into her room, sitting himself down at the edge of her bed. He only momentarily raised an eyebrow at the pile of pink paper littering the floor.  
“I just thought we could talk about your mother.” He noted softly.  
“That doesn’t sound like a short talk.” Responded Trixie.  
“Trixie, please,” Jackson said exasperatedly, shaking his head. “I-I think that this would be good for the both of us. It’s been three years and we never…well we never actually talked about her without talking about her passing.”  
“What is there to talk about? She’s dead, and she’s not coming back. I get all that.” Trixie stated, a level of defensiveness in her voice.  
“Trixie.” Jackson said more firmly. “I won’t dart around this: I’m worried about you. You don’t talk to me like you used to. You keep getting into trouble and that isn’t good. I know you’ve always loved your pranks, but it’s getting worse lately.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Please, Trixie, just talk to me.”  
Trixie’s determined glare faltered for a moment. Her eyes fell to the floor, and she turned away slowly. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”  
Jackson sighed exasperatedly. He wrung his hands through his hair, glancing up at his daughter’s desk. He raised an eyebrow as he spotted the pink paper hidden under a book, seeing the scribblings in his daughter’s handwriting. Standing up, he strode over to the desk and plucked the paper from its hiding spot. Immediately, Trixie stood up, her expression one of anger.  
“Hey! Don’t touch that! That’s mine!” she protested.

Jackson scanned the paper, quickly taking in the words on the sheet. As he read, his face paled. He slowly lowered the paper, and once it was in arms-reach, Trixie snatched it away, holding it close to her page.  
“I didn’t say you could read that! That’s private!” she said angrily.  
“You’re writing a love note?” he asked.  
Trixie’s eyes bugged open, her cheeks turning a furious red. “I-It’s none of your business! Leave me alone!”  
Jackson nodded, biting his lip. He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. “So, what now? Is this another way you’re acting up? You’re going to go date girls just to spite me?”  
“Dad, no. You don’t understand!” Trixie said, her voice starting to shake.  
“No Trixie, I think _you_ don’t understand.” Jackson said, his voice growing sterner.  
Trixie shrunk back, a feeling of ice growing around her heart.  
“Don’t you know this isn’t something to joke around about? I mean, what do you think your peers at school will think? This isn’t something light, this is serious and…geez, I mean why…WHY would you think…” He said, his tone growing more emotional. “Jesus, Trixie, you shouldn’t mess around with this sort of thing. You’re only nine, you can’t just act on things like this at your age!”  
Trixie was fuming. She stood up. “But YOU told me long ago that when you met Mom, you both were seven and you sent her a love letter. Weren’t YOU too young?”  
“That was different!” Jackson retorted. “Your mother and I, that’s n…that’s just different. But this,” he said, pointing at the pink paper. “this isn’t something to joke about.”  
“What if I’m not joking about this?” Trixie mumbled.  
Jackson placed his hands upon her shoulders. “Trixie, darling, you can’t know something like that. You’re only nine, for goodness sake! This could just be…”  
Trixie’s heart froze.  
“…a phase.”  
Her heart shattered.  
“I just don’t want you to act upon something temporary, you know? I’d hate for you to start telling people you…that you like girls, and then have you change your mind.” He gently shook her shoulder. “Does that make sense?”  
Trixie looked down, and only gave a single, silent nod.  
Jackson smiled. “I’m glad.” He let go of her shoulders and stood back up. “We can talk about your mom another day. I think that this is enough, huh?” He walked towards the door. “Dinner will be ready in another hour. Hope you’re hungry for beans and chicken.” He then exited her bedroom, closing the door behind him.

As soon as her father was out of earshot, Trixie angrily threw a book to the ground, tears rolling down her face.  
“This wasn’t any of your business.” She muttered under her breath.  
She looked at the letter in her hand, and the temptation to crumple it grew. She closed her fist around the paper tightly, clutching it so hard her hand shook. She threw it to the side, the partly crumpled letter floating slowly to the ground. She tossed herself onto her bed, face first, burying her face into her comforter. She continued to weep, angry at herself and her father. She knew she should’ve hidden the letter better, but she panicked. She dug her fingers into her hair, internally wishing she could collapse into herself and vanish.  
After several minutes, she turned her head back towards the door, her bleary eyes drifting towards where the letter fell.  
She sniffled, before slowly getting up and collecting the letter from the ground. She read over the words, glancing at the window as she finished. She steeled her resolve. Smoothing out the paper, she laid it carefully on the desk, and continued to write.

\--

“Stephanie! Pixel’s here for you!” said the Mayor brightly.

Stephanie looked up from her studies, peering at the door as the boy peeked in.  
“Oh hi Pixel, what’s up?” she asked with a smile.  
Pixel grinned. “I’ve got a prototype for the propeller here, and I thought you might want to see it! I think it’ll do the trick for your uncle’s airplane!”  
Stephanie lit up. “Oh wow! I’d love to see it!”  
Pixel crossed the room, placing the schematics on her desk. Stephanie glanced over the drawings and notes, mouthing a “woah” every few seconds.  
“This is fantastic!” she beamed.  
Pixel gave a half-smile. “Thanks! I thought it was pretty neat myself.”  
“How much longer until it’s ready to fly?” asked Stephanie.  
“I’d say another few months. We still have a lot left to assemble.” Noted Pixel.  
Stephanie’s smile dropped slightly. “Oh, okay.”  
“Is that okay?”  
Stephanie shrugged. “Oh no, of course it is. It’s just that uncle told me I could only see the airplane once it’s finished and I’ve been super excited to see it.”  
Pixel nodded, thinking for a moment. A mischievous smirk crossed his face. “Well, I know your uncle is downstairs dozing through his TV program. I could potentially sneak you in. You know, if you’d like.”  
Stephanie gasped. She glanced at the door, then back at Pixel. “You think we could?”  
“Sure, easy enough. I’ve got an umbrella for both of us already. Want to go?” Pixel asked.  
Stephanie darted up and over to her closet, fishing out her jacket. She threw it on as she grabbed Pixel’s hand and dragged him to the door.

“That’s a yes then?” asked Pixel with a laugh.  
Stephanie giggled and hushed the boy as they tiptoed their way to the door.

\--

Robbie kept his head down as he tromped through the puddles that littered the sidewalk, feeling his feet squish against the wet pavement. He smoothed out a few stray strands of soaked hair off his face as he passed by shop after shop, their windows glowing against the darkened streets. He peered back momentarily, checking on his cargo. The tarp remained strapped around his red wagon, keeping his newly made scarves safe and dry from the onslaught of rain. Giving a quick, approving nod, he continued his trek through the onslaught of rain.  
Robbie squinted as more rain pelted his face, dotting his glasses with droplets of water. He frowned, taking his sleeve, and wiping the outer glass. All he accomplished from this was smearing the glass, leaving his vision smudged and foggy. He bit the inner corner of his mouth, cursing himself internally as he trudged through the muck and puddles.

_Drip, drip drip_

_Squish, splash, splish_

Robbie shivered and rubbed his arms, seeing the raised goosebumps on his exposed forearms. He spat as some water dripped from his nose and mouth. He smoothed his hair back and continued forward.

_Drip, drop, drip_

_Splash, splish, splash_

Had Robbie been inside, he might’ve been amazed at the amount of rainfall LazyTown was inundated with at the time. Looking up, he wished he could’ve been in awe over the sheets of rain that crashed against the ground, leaving an eerie and echoing noise that rang through the town, like someone spilled thousands of beads against the pavement. But being outside, he couldn’t quite muster up the same reverence. Something about being soaked to the bone usually did that to people.

_Drip, drip, dr –_

Robbie slowed, the sudden absence of the constant spattering of rain against his head noticeable. He looked about in confusion. The rain still cascaded down, leaving his path barely visible in the curtain of water. He glanced down, seeing the water pool on the sidewalk in still, serene puddles. Water dripped from his forehead, yet this water wasn’t new. Had he walked under an awning? No, none of the storefronts had awnings down this way. Then how…

“Good day, Mr. Rotten!” chirped a voice.  
Of course.  
Robbie glanced over, frowning as he realized the source of the abatement. Hovering right by his head, one hand raised above him, his palm glowing a faint blue color, was everyone’s favorite local witch. Sportacus, despite the downpour, looked remarkably cheery and dry, though that was probably attributable to the stable rain shield he projected above himself and Robbie. It created a sort of dome around them, with the water smacking its surface and uselessly rolling down to the pavement. Robbie scrunched his nose as he continued frowning at the witch.  
“Can’t use an umbrella like the rest of us, huh? Got to show off your fancy magic? Remind everyone of your power over them?” Robbie remarked.  
Sportacus seemed surprised. “Wait, what? That’s not why I’m making this rain shield. It’s hard to fly on my broom and hold an umbrella, that’s all.”  
“Then walk. You have legs, and you can clearly use them, given those flips you show off to the brats.” Robbie retorted.  
“Fair enough point.” Sportacus shrugged, slipping off his broom and gracefully landing on the ground. He grabbed the broom and held it at his left side, giving it a once-over before turning

back to Robbie. “Is that better?”  
Robbie grunted and rolled his eyes. He glared up at the rain shield. “And knock off that showy magic crap, it’s stupid and pointless.”  
Sportacus gave him a look, raising his eyebrow. “You sure you want me to drop it? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
Robbie sighed exasperatedly. “Like I care if _you_ think it’s a good idea. Drop it now.”  
“Alright, as you wish Mr. Rotten.” Sportacus said with another shrug. He closed his hand and the shield instantly faded, with the rain immediately rushing forward and soaking both men. Robbie had to fight back a yelp as the cold rain doused him and seeped through his clothes. Chattering, Robbie blew a strand of damp hair off his face.  
“Perfect.” He muttered, shutting his eyes as water dripped down his forehead.  
“It’s not too late, I could just re-summon it again.” Sportacus suggested.  
“No, this is perfect. Don’t go out of your way, Sportaflop. Now leave me be to get soaked in peace.” Robbie grumbled, picking up his pace, his wagon clattering behind him.

Sportacus bit his lip and easily caught up to the lanky man. “Please Mr. Rotten, wait up just a minute.” He asked gently.  
Robbie shot him a look. “Don’t you have ears under that cap, witch? I said I want to be left alone.”  
“And I get it. I just…can’t we talk? Just for a few minutes?” Sportacus asked.  
“No.” Robbie answered tersely.  
“Please Mr. Rotten, I know you don’t like me. I just thought maybe we could talk, and you could see I’m not too bad. We’ve never really talked up to this point, perhaps it would help?”  
“I said no. Now go away. You’re giving me a headache.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus nodded. “Okay Mr. Rotten, I understand.”  
The two walked in silence for several minutes, the rain beating down on their heads, before Robbie spoke again.  
“Why are you following me?” he asked gruffly.  
“I’m not. I just needed to head this way.” Sportacus answered.  
Robbie sneered. “Why don’t you just use that broom of yours? You seem _so_ attached to it.” He asked.  
Sportacus gave a half-smile. “You told me to stop flying on it. So, I’m walking. Are you saying you’re fine with me flying on it again?” he asked cheekily.  
Robbie grumbled, choosing not to answer. Instead, he just picked up the pace, storming away from the witch. Sportacus simply walked a little faster, walking a footstep’s length behind the grumpy man.

For several minutes, the two walked in silence. Sportacus shivered slightly as more rain fell and soaked his clothing. He could already feel the water seep through his cap, dampening his hair. He felt half-tempted to just throw the rain shield up over himself, but he knew that he’d feel odd and slightly guilty for protecting himself and not Robbie too. So, he continued the drenched trek onwards, hearing his boots squish against the pavement.  
To distract himself, he busied his attention with gazing at the distant streetlights. He focused on how they glowed in the blurry and hazy atmosphere of the torrential downpour. The raindrops caught their glowing, yellow light and carried it in soft halos around the metal poles. As they passed by a couple bushes, he glanced over and admired how the rain pooled on the bushes’ leaves, dripping down onto the concrete. He smiled as he gazed at the rainy day around him.  
“You know, I always seem to forget how beautiful days like this are. I know sunny days are better for flying, but rainy days are just so…serene. I think they’re some of my favorites.” Sportacus remarked warmly, his attention turned towards Robbie as he looked on expectantly.  
Robbie kept his eyes focused ahead, distinctly ignoring the witch.  
“Do you like days like this too, Mr. Rotten?” Sportacus asked.  
Still no response.  
Sportacus sighed, and continued walking.

The two walked on in silence, the ambient sounds of the rain, the squeaks from Robbie’s wagon, and the occasional murmur from the shops and homes filling the absence of conversation. Sportacus would sometimes look over, hoping that Robbie might finally open up and talk about something. _Anything_. But the man remained stubborn. The most that Sportacus got for his efforts was the occasional meeting of eyes as Robbie’s eyes would dart over to peek at the witch, only for him to quickly look away once more once their eyes met. Sportacus cleared his throat and brushed some more water off his shoulder. He twitched his nose uncomfortably, feeling the rain that dripped off his mustache.  
“Why were you looking for me?” Robbie finally asked, breaking the silence.  
Sportacus’s attention shot over to the man. “Pardon?”  
“You know, that first day you got here. You said you’d heard of me, and you were…glad, to meet me. Where had you heard of me?” Robbie asked, mumbling the part about Sportacus’s apparent excitement to meet him.  
Sportacus smiled. “Bessie told me about you. I had visited her shop and saw all your beautiful designs. You really are quite talented!”   
Robbie hmphed and crossed his arms. “Judging from your outfit, you’re no fashion aficionado. My clothes couldn’t be the only reason you came looking for me. So, what else?”  
Sportacus’s smile faded slightly. “Well, I mean I did admire your designs. I still do. But, I’ll admit, I wanted to meet you after I noticed that you, well, charmed your clothing.”  
Robbie froze. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, and? What, I can’t sell clothing with a few, might I say, _harmless_ charms to some people who don’t seem to care one way or another?”  
“N-No! I mean, you can. I just was wondering why. Why go to the trouble of charming your clothing?” Sportacus asked.  
Robbie paused, a small amount of surprise crossing his mind. Out of all the questions he could’ve been asked, this wasn’t the one he expected. He dramatically shrugged. “I don’t know, it just happens. I make the clothing and I guess some magic gets woven into the seams. I don’t have much control over them; they just sort of pop up I guess.” He frowned at the witch. “So, I can’t really knock it off, as you can see. They’re going to be in my clothing, whether you like it or not.”  
Sportacus raised his hands. “I wasn’t going to ask you to stop. I just wanted to know why.” A small smile crossed his face. “Personally, I think your charms are helping a lot of people in town. They always seem to glow when they wear your designs. If they’re helpful, then I don’t see any need to remove them.”  
Robbie frowned. “Why bring it up then? If it’s not harming people and you don’t care about them, then it doesn’t need to be talked about.”  
Sportacus furrowed his brow, but decided not to respond.

There was an awkward period of silence between the two as they continued through the rain. Sportacus would occasionally brush off the collecting water on his shoulders, while Robbie would sniff and wipe the rain off his nose. Robbie would also, sometimes, look over at the witch. He kept his brow furrowed as the minutes passed and Sportacus…still seemed relaxed. He still kept his bouncy and nonchalant stride, stepping over puddles and gazing up at the clouds. Robbie was confused, to say the least. Dare he even say that Sportacus was almost…human? The nipping thoughts in the back of his head grew stronger as they continued to walk together. For all the angry ideas he had in his head about witches, Sportacus didn’t seem to be fitting them at all. He wasn’t acting cold or calculated, he was jovial and, while annoying, still approachable. Not that Robbie necessarily _liked_ that kind of personality, but the witch still seemed miles away from the town destroying monster he’d made him out to be.  
And the strengthening idea that, perhaps, he might have judged Sportacus wrong only tugged at the knot of guilt building in his stomach. His nose twitched and shoulders wiggled uncomfortably. He crossed his arms and tried to look away from the witch, but just because he couldn’t see him didn’t mean he didn’t still think about how he’d acted towards the witch, and how his feelings about what had happened a few days ago grew more intense. It was discomforting, and made him feel all the more uneasy.  
“Robbie, are – “Sportacus was about to say.  
“I didn’t mean to almost kill you, okay?” Robbie finally blurted.  
A pregnant pause fell between them.  
“What?” Sportacus said.  
Robbie stiffened, his more defensive front returning. “You know, that thing with your broom the other day. I only wanted to scare you, maybe break your broom. I’m not a monster, and I didn’t want to hurt or kill you or your ma-your cat. Okay? We clear on that?”  
Sportacus blinked. He gave a single nod and a shrug. “Yeah, we’re clear. I mean, I don’t understand why you’re so upset about that. I forgive you.”  
Robbie stopped in his tracks. He looked at the hero in disbelief. “What.”  
Sportacus stopped as well and turned to look at the man once more. “I said, I forgive you.”  
Robbie looked aghast. “Wait, just like that? No forcing me to beg? No favors I have to complete to get on your good side? Nothing?”  
Sportacus looked at him in shock. “W-What? Of course not! Did you really think I’d do something like that?”  
Robbie snorted indignantly. “Well, you’re a witch. Not out of character for you.” He scoffed. His disdain look faded as he saw Sportacus’s face droop. He shook his head. “It’s just…how can you forgive me like that? Just so easily?”  
Sportacus thought for a moment before shrugging again. “Because I want to?”  
“That’s a stupid answer and you’re stupid for saying that.” Robbie retorted.  
Sportacus frowned. “Mr. Rotten, I don’t see any problem with forgiving someone if you want to. I didn’t think there was any harm done, not true harm anyways. I gave you that cake to show you that. So, I forgive you. Okay?”  
Robbie didn’t respond. He frowned and looked away.

Sportacus sighed exasperatedly. He smoothed some soaked hair strands off his forehead before chuckling to himself. He looked at Robbie with a half-smile. “I get you don’t believe me there. Well, if the cake didn’t prove I forgave you, does it at least make up for my bust of a first gift?”  
Robbie could help but let out a loud laugh. He shook his head, a small smile slipping past his harsh and distant front. “You are such a moron. Who in their right mind thinks that fruit is an acceptable gift?”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened, him feeling slightly scandalized. “ _I_ do! Who doesn’t like getting sportscandy? I know I do!”  
Robbie gave him a look. “Wait, did you just call fruit ‘sportscandy’?”  
Sportacus’s cheeks turned a slight pink. “…maybe?”  
Robbie laughed and shook his head. “You are such a loon. You can’t even call fruit and vegetables by their proper name!”  
Sportacus’s blush grew darker. “W-Well, you’re a loon also! I don’t get how you can’t enjoy spor-fruits and vegetables!” He gave a dramatic frown. “I think that makes you more of a loon.”  
Robbie rolled his eyes. “Please, that just means that I have _taste_.” He smirked at the hero. “Besides, I don’t think someone with a mustache like yours deserves to call anyone a loon. What, did you dip it sealant? It’s not even bending in the rain.”  
Sportacus brushed his mustache in response. “I like my mustache!” he said defensively. He pointed at the wagon. “Well, I don’t think you can call anyone a loon when you tote around a wagon like that! I’m guessing you kept that from preschool?”  
“It’s a garage sale steal, thank you very much. At least get that right.” Robbie said with a jokingly haughty flair.   
“Oh, got it. My apologies, Mr. Wagon.” Sportacus said with a cheeky smile, giving it a theatrical bow.  
“Just because you can talk to your furball of a cat doesn’t mean my wagon will talk back.” Robbie said snarkily.  
Sportacus smirked and quirked an eyebrow. “Really? Because your wagon just told me something interesting about you.”  
Robbie frowned. “No, it didn’t, you liar.”  
“It said you’re the bigger loon.”   
“Oh screw you.”  
“Hey, not like you can talk to the wagon.”  
“No, but I’m at least not dumb enough or silly enough to _fake_ talking to the wag-“Robbie began to say.

But before Robbie could finish his thought, he felt his foot slip underneath him. He gasped as he stumbled forward, shutting his eyes as he prepared to meet face first with the hard concrete. Nothing better than to add to his growing collection of bruises.  
However, instead of landing hard against the cement, he felt his body jerk as a pair of strong hands caught him by the back.   
“Mr. Rotten! Are you okay?” asked Sportacus worriedly.  
“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just – “Robbie began to say, stopping as he opened his eyes.  
This was not something he expected. He soon realized he had been grabbed in a near dip fashion, his face up towards the sky and looking straight at Sportacus’s face. His head was highlighted by the streetlamp above them, giving him a sort of glow. He noticed how the witch’s hair stuck to his forehead and the curves of his face. It was a darkened blonde color; admittedly, Robbie didn’t expect him to be a blonde. His eyes drifted to the witch’s strong arms, which were supporting the sides of his body. He held back a shudder; it’d been so long since he’d actually had physical contact, it was strangely…nice. He glanced back up at the witch. His face was beginning to burn.  
The witch looked into his eyes and laughed nervously.  
“Glad you’re not hurt. Wish people picked up their litter, huh?” Sportacus commented.  
“Y-Yeah, people stink.” Robbie responded, his face warming even more. He swallowed a harsh gulp.  
Sportacus chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far.”  
Robbie could feel his heart beat in his ears. He blinked and shook his head. What was wrong with him? He tried to ignore the still present warmth in his face as he gripped the witch’s shoulders, hoisting himself back into a standing position.  
“R-Right.” He said. He cleared his throat. “You can let go of me now, Sportaweirdo.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and he quickly retracted his arms. “Sorry! Forgot I was still holding you.”  
Robbie put back on his characteristic frown. “Maybe you should practice some more awareness, _witch_.” He said with a bit of his old venom. He glanced over at the brightened shop windows, gesturing at the gaudy sign. “I’m here. You can head on your way now.” He said, turning and walking towards the door.  
Sportacus’s smile vanished. The sudden whiplashing tone had left him completely adrift and lost. Hadn’t they just made some progress a few minutes ago? Nevertheless, he followed a step or so behind.  
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “I said you could go.”  
“I’m just stopping by to say hi to Bessie.” Sportacus said.  
Robbie hmphed and opened the shop’s door, the little bells jingling their arrival.

Inside, Bessie sat at the register, idly browsing through a fancy fashion magazine. She tapped her fingers in a bored fashion against the hardtop of the counter, glancing up as she heard the bells. She sat up straight once she saw who had arrived.  
“Sportacus! Robbie! I didn’t expect to see you two today!” she said cheerily.   
“Hello Bessie! Quite the storm we’re having, huh?” said Sportacus with a warm tone.  
“Indeed, I’ve heard that it might just be the storm of the century! I hope you both are staying dry.” Bessie noted. She raised an eyebrow. “Are you two hanging out? That must be wonderful for you Robbie, to have someone to spend time with for a change.”  
“We’re not hanging out.” Robbie said annoyedly. Roughly grabbing the clothes from the wagon, he plopped them on the counter. “Here’s your weekly delivery. I’ll see you again next week.” He said tersely, before turning and stomping towards the door.  
“Wait, Robbie, don’t you want to – “Bessie began to say.  
The slam of the door interrupted her question.

She only sighed and turned towards Sportacus, whose attention was still turned towards the entrance.  
“That man, he is quite the character, isn’t he? So often he switches between being a complete grouch and a fairly sweet person. He’s quite the enigma; I believe he confuses the entire town.” Bessie noted with a headshake.  
Sportacus bit his lip thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on the door, his mind still processing the conversation and stroll he had just had with the elusive man. He eventually nodded and answered, “I think you’ll have to add me to the confused pile too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this chapter took! Life is getting busy with a new job so I've had less time to write. Plus this story takes a lot more time and energy than other fics, so unfortunately the chapters take more time. I hope the next chapter will be ready for next week, but I can't make any promises.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	6. Denial, Feathers, and The Continuing Rain

The jingle of the bells above the door signaled Sportacus’s arrival to Ms. Busybody. She looked up from her current job of refolding the new stock to see the witch walk through the door, his entire form soaked and dripping with rain water. Nevertheless, he still smiled cheerily.  
“You’re back already? You must be flying at top speed today!” Ms. Busybody remarked, folding another shirt.  
“I wanted to make sure Mrs. Sæti got her blouse in on time! You said she was buying it for a big dinner party she’s having tonight, so I wanted to make sure I got it to her as soon as possible!” answered Sportacus as he wiped the collected water off his face.  
Ms. Busybody smiled. “Well, I’m certain she more than appreciates it! I know that Miriam fusses about her parties, so you must’ve given her a little peace of mind having one less thing to worry about.” She laid the shirt on top of a larger pile of the same shirt before she gave a glance to the witch, raising an eyebrow in concern as she noted his dripping wet outfit. “Sweetie, don’t you have an umbrella? Or a raincoat? It’s raining far too hard out there to be flying in just that!”  
Sportacus shook his head. “No, this outfit is the only thing I own. I don’t have much in the ways of money right now. And I can’t hold an umbrella while flying on my broom.”  
“Well, you have some magic, don’t you? Is there a spell for, I don’t know, shielding or deflecting rain? Surely there must be at least one?”  
Sportacus’s cheeks took on a pink color, partly from the heat rushing to his chilled face and partly from embarrassment. “Yes, um, there is. I usually cast it when I’m flying. But I was told it was bit, um, show-offish.”  
“Oh? By who?”  
Sportacus cast a glance aside. “…someone.”

Ms. Busybody pulled another shirt from the pile of unfolded tops, carefully tucking the sleeves under the mid-part of the blouse. She bounced back and forth between various thoughts before going with one that stuck out from the rest. She could be wrong, of course, but might as well try, right?  
“Are you still thinking about Mr. Rotten, Sportacus?” she asked.  
Sportacus stopped, the blush on his cheeks remaining. He coughed, willing away the heat in his face. “Uh, no. Not at all.”  
“Sweetie, I think you know as well as everyone else that you aren’t a very convincing liar.” She said, giving him a look. “It’s okay, you know. If you are, just say so.”  
Sportacus sighed and nodded, giving a small half-smile. “Okay, yeah I am.” He noted. “More, I’m thinking about what you mentioned the other day. You said that he flip-flops between personality traits? What do you mean?” he added, with a slight fumble at the beginning.  
Ms. Busybody shrugged as she moved towards another stand, adjusting the pants on display. “There’s not much to say beyond what I told you. Mr. Rotten often acts grumpy and distant, but I’ve seen it myself that he can truly be a kind individual. I remember once the kids’ school was holding a bake sale and not enough people contributed tasty entries. The children were so worried that the sale was going to tank, when suddenly a huge plate of perfectly frosted cupcakes showed up at the school. There wasn’t a name on the contribution, but I knew it was from Mr. Rotten. They were frosted purple. They ended up saving the bake sale; everyone absolutely loved them and bought them all up in minutes.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “He really did that?”  
Ms. Busybody nodded. “I also know he’s advocated for Neil’s son a few times, especially when he was getting in trouble for his little, _ahem_ , habit. And I know he’s helped the children out on occasion, mostly with repairing their toys.”  
“So why does he act so grouchy then? It seems like he’s a good person, truly.”  
Ms. Busybody sighed. “I don’t know, but I think, perhaps, that there’s something else going on with him. Despite how nice he can be to people, he still locks himself away and seems to have convinced himself that something is wrong in the world. I think he’s bothered by something. I don’t know what, he won’t tell me. But whatever’s wrong, it’s something only he knows.”  
Sportacus bit his lip and nodded, not able to hide his worried expression. He always was the type to try and help as many people as he could, especially if they were in trouble, both physically and emotionally. While he wasn’t always successful, he wanted to at least try. He also thought he usually had a pretty good gauge on who wasn’t doing well and, potentially, why. To have completely missed Mr. Rotten altogether, with him just accepting that Robbie was an acerbic individual with an unjustified hatred of witches, had his heart hurting.

He leaned back against a display, his brow now furrowed. “Do you know anything about him before he came to LazyTown?”  
Ms. Busybody shook her head. “No, no one does I think. He just appeared one day. He bought out an old house on the outer edges of town and settled in so quickly, nobody even saw a moving truck. A few days later he brought me some samples of his work, and I hired him to design clothing for my boutique. I couldn’t say no, his designs seemed to always have an extra…quality about them. But I still wondered about him.”  
Sportacus decided to hold his tongue about the charms. He nodded, mulling over the new information he had about LazyTown’s most reclusive resident. “Thanks, Ms. Busybody. I think that at least helps me start to understand him a bit better.”  
Ms. Busybody smiled. “No problem, sweetie.”   
“Do you have any other deliveries you need me to handle? I don’t have any other plans for the day.”  
Ms. Busybody pointed at the counter where another bag sat. “I need those delivered to the apartment blocks today. More clothing for the big party. If you could get those to their proper addresses this afternoon, I would really appreciate it!”  
Sportacus grinned and jogged over to the counter, snatching up the bags of clothing. “I’ll head out right now!” he said, quickly making his way back to the door.  
Ms. Busybody grabbed his arm before he headed out the door. “Oh no, you are not heading out again without something waterproof. Here, why don’t you take a raincoat? That’d protect you against the rain.” She said, pulling out a rain jacket from the racks.  
Sportacus shook his head. “Thank you, but I couldn’t! Really, I’ll be fine!”  
“Sportacus, we’re in the middle of one of the heaviest rainstorms in recent history. You need SOME form of weather resistant garb!” she said, handing him a plain, black rain jacket. She coaxed him into the coat, stepping back to look at the witch. She frowned and shook her head. “No, you need something else. Something to spruce up the…” she said, her eyes wandering to a nearby display. “Aha!” she said in excitement, as she pulled out a scarf from the stand. She walked over and tied it around Sportacus’s neck. “Perfect! Now you’re warm _and_ stylish!”  
Sportacus looked over at his new attire, a worried look on his face. “B-But, Ms. Busybody, I don’t think I could afford any of this.” He noted. He ran his fingers across the scarf, immediately recognizing it as one of Robbie’s designs from the strange sparks of magic that course through his hands, leaving a tingling feeling in his arms. “Especially not this.”  
Ms. Busybody waved off his concerns. “You’ve done so much to help me over these last few weeks, this is on me! And I don’t want to hear a peep of protest from you! This is stuff you need. They just so happen to compliment you as well.” She said with a wink.

Sportacus chuckled and felt the scarf’s material against his cheek. It was as soft as cashmere, but felt as smooth as silk. It was obviously made of some high-end, expensive fabric. “Thank you, Ms. Busybody!” he said thankfully, grabbing his broom and heading out the door, back into the deluge of rain.  
Ms. Busybody waved to the witch as she returned to her folding and stacking. She giggled to herself as she did so, wondering about her witch errand boy. A thought crossed her mind, but she quickly ushered it away. Silly flights of fantasy weren’t conducive to anything, she reminded herself. She busied herself with the clothing before returning to the counter, her nail polish and Emory board waiting for her there.

\--

Circe had opted not to fly with Sportacus that day.

It wasn’t like it was a tricky decision for her to make. All she had to hear was the rapid thumping of the rain hitting the pavement to decide that today was the perfect day to just sleep and relax. Besides, she deserved it. With so much flying around with Sportacus, Circe had barely gotten a chance to nap. And as a cat, she was supposed to be getting some huge number of hours of sleep, so she might as well play catch up. She stretched out her limbs across the comforter, her eyes blinking wearily as she glanced at the window. The rain still cascaded down, soaking the earth and making Circe glad to be inside, warm and cozy, unlike her owner.

Stretching her back, Circe shook her head and hopped up to the window, glancing down at the street. A small figure in a red raincoat walked past the Meanswell home, stopping just a moment to look at the house intently. Circe thought she spotted the tip of a black pig-tail peeping out past the person’s hood. She was familiar, but before Circe could come up with a name, she turned on her heel and bolted down the other direction.  
Humans. They could be so strange at times.  
Circe shrugged and hopped back down onto the mattress, circling around and curling herself back up into a little ball. She yawned and laid her head back against the fluffy comforter, readying herself for her fourth consecutive nap. She sighed happily as she began to drift back into dreamland.  
_Gurgle, rumble, gurgle_.  
Circe’s eyes shot open and she frowned. She got back up and glared at her belly as it continued to make unhappy and pushy noises. She sighed. Sportacus had yet to go grocery shopping this week, which meant if she wanted food, she’d have to go _out there_. In the rain. Where she’d get soaking wet.  
“Should’ve just gone flying with Sportacus. Wouldn’t have made any difference.” She grumbled to herself as she blinked her eyes, a flash of light emanating from her whiskers as she disappeared in a pool of shadow.

She apparated in front of the bakery, its windows glowing with bright, yellow light. She strode up to the door and began to softly knead her paws against the door frame, uttering a few whimpering mews and meows, drooping her whiskers strategically. As the door opened, she put on her most pathetic expression, lowering her ears and scrunching her shoulders to emphasize how cold she looked.  
Jives gave a half smile and knelt down to her level. “Aww, hey there! You’re Sportacus’s kitty, right? What are you doing out in the rain?”  
Circe meowed in response.  
“Are you hungry? Is that it? Just hang here then, I’ll go get you something.” Jives noted, standing up and turning back to the counter. A minute later he returned with a saucer of milk and a plate of dried salmon and diced pieces of cucumber. Circe sniffed the plate warily before beginning to chow down on her meal. She paused only long enough to give a thankful mew to the teen.  
Jives chuckled. “Hey, no problem Mrs. Kitty! Anything to help out a friend of Sportacus’s! I’ll make sure if I see him that he gets more cat food for you.” A shout rang out from the kitchen. “Oops! Gotta go! _Bon appetit!_ ” Jives said hurriedly, turning back and closing the door.  
As soon as Jives was out of sight, Circe chuckled.   
“The pathetic, starved cat routine. Works every time.” She said to herself proudly, before lapping up the saucer of milk.

After finishing up her meal, Circe walked off, her little paws papping against the pavement as she jogged down the lane. She thought about just teleporting back to the room, but she figured a walk after such a filling meal would be good for her. Sportacus would be so proud of her. She’d look in the windows of the shops she passed by, pausing momentarily to admire a cat bed decorated in fluffy feathers and cushy pillows. She’d have to consider asking Sportacus to ask for a paycheck.  
She turned off a corner and down an alleyway, seeking refuge from the deluge of rain. She shook out her fur, licking at her coat to smooth out the unrulier ends. She pawed at the ribbon around her neck, scrunching her nose at how it stuck to her fur. Sportacus had given her the ribbon for her first birthday, and while the color was rather lovely, it would soak up water like a sponge and cling to her fur. It resulted in her having a love-hate relationship with the thing. In the end, however, she still wore it. Mostly because Sportacus seemed to appreciate it.  
“Caw!”  
Circe’s attention shot up towards the rooftops, her focus being grabbed by the sight of a ruffled looking crow, who was gazing greedily at the cat.  
“What do you want, chicken neck? Don’t you have a scarecrow to bother or something?” Circe said with a frown.  
The crow scattered across the roof’s edge, its eyes fixed upon the shine of Circe’s blue ribbon. It cawed once more as it opened its wings.  
Circe’s eyes darted at her ribbon before returning to the crow. “Oh no, this is _my_ ribbon, not yours! It may get soaked and uncomfortable, but it’s mine and you can’t have it!” she said, hissing lowly as she raised her hackles.  
The crow beat its wings and flew up into the air, pointing its beak down towards Circe and divebombing. Circe let out an angry growl and swiped at the bird, the crow making a startled and pained squawk as her claws connected with the side of its head. The crow tumbled onto the ground and lifted itself back upright, its feathers bristling in aggression.   
Circe smirked. “Yeah, stupid, that’s what you get for attacking something bigger than you! Now, how about you be a smart little birdie and fly off? You aren’t getting this ribbon no matter what you try!”

Admittedly, Circe didn’t expect the crow to continue to stand there, glaring at the feline, and especially didn’t expect the bird to raise its head and let out a strange warble, its voice echoing through the town. Circe quirked an ear at the strange behavior. She could only wonder for a split second over what the crow was trying to do, before her answer came in a rising wave of noise that sliced through the ambient sound of rain.  
Cawing and crowing, screeching and squawking.  
Circe turned and her eyes shrunk as she saw the murder of crows that were flying towards her. They must’ve numbered in the dozens at least, and from the sounds of their cries, they were absolutely _pissed_. Of course, the crow had called its family; why didn’t she expect that?  
“Crap.” Circe muttered under her breath, her attention only being broken by the mocking cawing of the injured crow. She growled and swept at him again, knocking him off to the side. This only seemed to anger the murder more, and they flew up high into the sky, pointing their beaks at her back as they swooped down, yelling out enraged battle cries as their wings split the curtain of rain apart.  
Circe jumped as the first three crows struck near her paws, barely missing their strike. She was less lucky with the next few, whose beaks connected with the tip of her ear and her hind leg. She yowled and swept her claws out frantically and blindly, the pained and shocked cries of a few crows echoing in her ears. There were so many of them, and they just wouldn’t let up. She sunk her fangs down into the neck of one crow as four more tugged at her tail while another clawed at her side. With so much going on around her, she couldn’t focus on a spell. She had to remove herself from the onslaught.  
Summoning as much magic as she could muster, she cried out as a shallow shockwave warped through the air and sent the closer crows flying backwards with confused warbles and caws. Circe wasted no time and bolted back down the alleyway, leaping and swerving around the avian carcasses that littered the ground. Her heart beat in her ears as she zipped forward, the exit in her sights. She gasped and meowed in alarm as she felt her paws leave the earth and her scruff be painfully pulled. She turned and saw five crows pulling and tugging at her fur, lifting her up off the ground. They were going to drop her once they got high enough, and this realization sent ice running into the feline’s heart.  
“Aura burn!” she screamed in the ancient tongue, and the crows immediately let go as a haze of fire eclipsed her body, burning their faces and beaks. Circe dropped onto the ground, messing up the landing and rolling across the ground, the impact stinging against her wounds. She staggered onto her feet, just then becoming aware of the streams of hot blood that dripped from her body. She glared at the remaining crows, who were already preparing to strike at her again. She cringed and flinched at the stinging pain in her torso, forcing one eye open as she stared down the birds. She was finishing this.  
“Shockwave.” She hissed under her breath, her eyes glowing a bright blue.  
The din of crackling and arcing electricity filled the air as the crows let out shocked warbles and cries, the spell sending them crashing to the ground as the blue energy zapped through their bodies and left their forms twitching and sizzling. One by one, they fell to the ground, wings and beaks going still as the electricity left their bodies. Finally, only one was left, the one crow from before. He gave one last fearful squawk before flapping his wings and flying up into the sky, disappearing behind a darkened cloud.

Circe chuckled, a crooked smile crossing her face. The world around her was tilting and swerving, growing increasingly blurry. She fought to keep herself conscious as she limped out of the alley and back into the street, leaving a trail of crimson behind her. She uttered a distressed whine as she felt her energy shrink away, the pain in her body becoming too much to bear. With a gasp, she collapsed onto the sidewalk. Black began to encroach upon her vision and she chuckled once more quietly.  
“S-Stupid bird…told you…you wouldn’t get my r-ribbon…” she said weakly. The ground tilted more and it soon became too painful to look at. She closed her eyes, her mind giving her a pleasant memory of sweet fields and glowing mushrooms growing on darkened trees as she finally fell unconscious.

…

Footsteps.

Robbie walked down the sidewalk, clutching the bags in his arms closely to his chest. Groceries threatened to spill out of their bags, with Robbie nearly losing a box of Pop-Tarts as he walked towards his home. He had originally hoped to wait for the rain to slow before he went on a grocery run, but the weather report said the rain wouldn’t let up for another week and he couldn’t exactly subsist on near-expired crackers, sardines, and a bottle of mustard until then. So, he braved the rainstorm, buying up enough cake mix, soda, bread, coffee, jelly, and instant dinners to last out the storm. At least now he could hole up inside and just ignore the world. It was exactly what he wanted and needed to do right now.

He took in a deep breath, allowing the smooth and earthy scent of the fresh rain fill his nose. Except there was something else in the air. He scrunched his nose at the smell. Something like copper, and it was incredibly intrusive and pungent. A pit grew in the bottom of his stomach. He knew that scent all too well.

His attention fell to a black lump on the sidewalk, laying in a pool of blood. His face grew pale as he spotted the bright blue ribbon that stood out from the still form. The blood covered cat looked up pitifully at the man, her eyes half-lidded and barely aware. She gave a weak meow before laying her head back down on the ground.  
Robbie cringed as he looked over the cat. He could feel a twinge of nausea build itself in his stomach, threatening to overtake him as he looked longer. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he slowly but down his groceries and crouched next to the still cat.  
“Hey, uh, fleabag. You okay?” he asked, knowing just how stupid of a question it was.  
Circe didn’t even look at him.  
“Okay, not good. Geez, you’re in bad shape.” Mumbled Robbie. He glanced at the alley, turning to look at it as he saw the bloodstains on the ground and trashcans. He gasped in alarm as he noticed the crow bodies that littered the alleyway, along with the burn marks made clearly from some powerful magic.   
He looked back at the cat. Circe’s breathing was shallow and slow.  
Robbie didn’t want to get himself involved. Getting involved with the witch’s familiar would only guarantee further interaction with the man. But at the same time, he wasn’t so heartless as to leave an animal to bleed to death.  
He groaned as he threaded the handles of his grocery bags onto his arm. He threw his coat over the cat’s body, cradling her in his arms as he stood back up. Stepping over the blood pool, Robbie picked up the pace and walked briskly to his home.  
“I swear, you stupid cat, you better hang in there. I don’t need a dead cat and a miserable witch on my hands.” Robbie muttered as he clutched the cat’s body closer to his chest.

\--

On rainy days such as these, there wasn’t much for Stephanie to do other than read.

Not that she minded much, she loved reading.

And she’d just sat down with her favorite book, _The Dark Night Dancer_ , for the fourth time this month. She just adored the tale of a silent dancer, who performed at a mostly empty night club, with the majority of the book detailing her thoughts and feelings as she danced night after night in the empty venue. Except, that is wasn’t. The first chair violinist with a tragic past absolutely adored her, but she’d never reveal her feelings. She feared the judgement of the world around them, and thus the story detailed their painful, mutual pining. The ending was ambiguous, but Stephanie didn’t mind. She always chuckled as she thought of the confused looks her parents used to give her when she’d gush over the story.

She wasn’t sure why, but this story was one she’d always adored.

She had sunken back into the sofa, her crackers and cheese at hands reach, feeling herself slowly grow unaware of the world around her, when a door upstairs slammed against the wall. She jumped, nearly tossing the book in her hands, as she heard the frantic footfalls above her. Someone was running around upstairs, but why?

She got her answer as she turned around, seeing Sportacus run down the stairs, a worried frown plastered on his face.  
“Sportacus? What’s wrong?” she asked.  
Sportacus stopped and bit his lip, shaking his head. “I came back to get Circe so we could get lunch, but she isn’t here. I wouldn’t usually be worried, but I can’t sense her magic. Without that, I won’t be able to find her. Have you seen her?”  
Stephanie’s eyes widened, and she gripped her chin thoughtfully. She furrowed her brow as she thought carefully over her day, before finally sighing and shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Sportacus. I haven’t seen Circe all day.”  
Sportacus’s hopeful look faded. He quickly forced a weak smile and nodded. “Thanks Stephanie, it’s okay. I’m just going to go out and look for her.” He said, turning and walking towards the door.  
“I’ll come with you!” Stephanie suggested.  
Sportacus stopped. “You will?”  
“Of course! We’re friends, and friends help each other, right? Besides, with two of us, we can cover more ground!”  
Sportacus smiled more warmly. It really did warm his heart each time he was reminded of how helpful and caring the people of LazyTown could be. As much as magic users exercised a level of suspicion and distrust of humans, Sportacus knew that truly they were good inside.

“You’re right, Stephanie. We’ll both go look. Surely together we can find Circe!”

Grabbing her raincoat and rainboots, Stephanie ran out the door with Sportacus and into the deluge of rainwater.

\--

Robbie kicked the door shut as he finally made it home. He rushed over to his sewing table, pushing aside his current project to make room as he laid down Circe’s still form. He removed the jacket and took another look at the cat. While the bleeding had slowed down, Robbie could still see that her wounds were very grave. Thick, zig-zagging gashes were bored into her stomach and back. The tip of her left ear was missing, a thin trickle of blood oozing from the wound. Smaller, less deep but still painful looking bitemarks and scratches littered the rest of her body. Her breathing had slowed even more since he’d first found her.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking stressfully at the feline. He shook his head and muttered to himself.  
“Geez, they really did a number on you, huh? I’ll go call the vet, see if she can patch you up. Just stay right there.”  
Circe lifted her head weakly, giving Robbie a look even in her state.  
Robbie frowned and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know, stupid thing to say. You get the idea, just don’t try and chase after a mouse or something.” He said, walking away towards the phone on the wall.  
Picking up the phone, he punched out the number on the receiver, twiddling his fingers nervously as the phone buzzed and droned. It repeated five times before a rough and low voice spoke through the phone, its tone scraped and maligned by cigarette smoke.  
“Hello…”  
“Hello? Doctor Emeline? This is Robbie Rotten. I need you to stop by as soon as possible – “  
“This is Doctor Emeline. I am currently away from the phone and will be on vacation for another week. Please call back at that time for an appointment.”  
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”  
“Have a pleasant day.”  
The dial tone buzzed through the phone.  
Robbie slammed the phone against the receiver in frustration. He turned and sunk his back against the wall, covering his face in nervous exasperation. A mocking voice rang through his lair. Great, the crow had returned. The crow cawed and croaked, laughing at Robbie’s continuous misfortune. Through the din, Robbie could hear the distressed yowls and low noises that Circe was making. Peeking through his fingers, he noticed how Circe’s ears were pressed against her head, her eyes wide with anger and unease as she hissed at the avian.  
Everything clicked in that moment.  
Picking up a spare shoe, Robbie stepped back and hurled the footwear at the wounded bird. The crow squawked and flapped its wings, flying up and back through the hole in the wall.  
“And stay out!” Robbie shouted. He gave a sympathetic look at the cat, who’d seemingly calmed down and laid back still against the table.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair again as he pondered his options. There was no doubt that the cat wouldn’t survive until Dr. Emeline returned, and with the witch flying around running errands, he wouldn’t be the easiest to track down. So, there was only one option left, and it made Robbie groan. He still wished he didn’t have to get involved.  
Leaning down next to the cat, Robbie looked it in the eyes. “Listen feline, I’m going to be blunt with you. You’re going to die unless we work fast.”  
Circe gave him a look that said, “ _Then do something, you moron._ ”  
Robbie frowned. “I’m going to try some healing magic on you. Keep in mind I’m not as strong as you or your…owner. But we don’t have a ton of options. Just let me know if it gets too much to handle. Give my hand a bite or something. But don’t do that unless it actually becomes that painful, you hear me? Or I’ll toss you out in the garbage.” Robbie said, his final threat coming out weak and shaky.  
Circe blinked once before sinking back into the table, closing her eyes peacefully.  
Robbie sucked in a breath and exhaled nervously. Stretching his fingers, he slowly lowered their tips onto the feline’s wounds. He cringed and held back a gag as his digits rested on the fleshy and bloody gashes, the blood staining his fingers. Swallowing back the need to hurl, he closed his eyes and focused on the few healing spells he’d been taught. Thoughts of herbs, bandages, stitches, and flower bouquets flooded his mind. Slowly, his hands began to glow a dim, purple color.  
Circe let out a low meow, sounding more distressed as she felt the magic begin to seep into her body.  
“Shut up.” Hissed Robbie, trying to keep his focus. His magic spread out like a spider’s web across the open wounds, creating intricate patterns of lines and boxes. The pattern glittered in the darkened room, and Robbie could feel his arms begin to tremble as the spell built up its power.  
Circe hissed and yowled loudly, sounding eerily close to a human’s cry. She sat up and bit Robbie’s hand, drawing a small, pin-prick of blood.  
“Stupid cat, just hang in there. I’m almost done.” Robbie said angrily. Sighing, he opened his eyes. “Stitch.” He whispered.  
Instantly, the magic bindings pulled the wounds shut, creating a line of crossing stitches across each of the cat’s wounds. With a sputter and a flicker, the thread dimmed until they sat there, dull and textured, looking no different than a typical set of stitches.  
Robbie sat back, his forehead dripping with sweat. He panted as he looked up at the cat, his vision wavering as he felt faint. Circe quickly went to work licking at her wounds, cleaning up the dried blood around the gashes and scratches.  
“You cats are so gross.” Robbie commented, screwing up his nose in disgust. Shooing away the cat’s licking, he unraveled a length of bandage and tied it around the larger wounds. He secured it with a safety pin before standing back to survey his handiwork. It was haphazardly done, and definitely didn’t look pretty, but it was effective. The bleeding seemed to have slowed, and Circe, while exhausted and bleary, looked at least more peaceful and less in pain than she did previously. She nibbled at her bandages and licked at their rough, sterilized surface.

Robbie frowned and walked away, stumbling wearily towards his kitchen. Ignoring the feline, he prepared himself a peanut butter and honey sandwich with a glass of Ovaltine and walked over to his fluffy, orange recliner. He flopped down into its fuzzy embrace, sipping idly on his chocolate beverage, his eyes on occasion darting over to the cat. Circe simply laid there, licking her paw and smoothing out the fur on her head.   
Robbie grunted and turned away, taking a huge bite of his overly sweet meal, honey dripping from the corner of his mouth and onto his chin. He tried to focus all of his attention on his sandwich, pointedly trying not to think of his feline houseguest. His feline houseguest that was the closest confidant to his witch problem. He would definitely not make conversation, despite the fact that he knew the cat understood English. He didn’t know if that cat would take whatever he said or did and report it to the witch. Granted, at this point he was about halfway convinced nothing bad would happen to him or the town. But he still didn’t want to take any chances.  
“If you think I’m going to talk to you or engage in conversation with you by the way, it’s not happening.” Robbie said sternly. “ _Even though you’re doing it right now_.” He thought to himself, laying his palm against his face in exasperation.  
Circe didn’t seem to care. She only looked up for a second, before shrugging and returning to her grooming.  
Robbie bit his lip and crossed his arms, his fingers twiddling against his upper arm. His nose twitched nervously as he sank further into his chair. The silence was uncomfortable, a thought he’d never had in his life until right that moment.   
“The only thing I’ll say, and I’m saying it because I know you can talk to your owner, is that he’s a dolt. A complete buffoon and idiot, and the biggest loon. And his outfit is awful. Blue isn’t his color. At all.” Robbie said grumpily. “You can tell him that.”  
Circe blinked and yawned. She stood up and stretched her back, flinching and meowing as a dull pain reverberated through her body.  
Robbie frowned and scrunched his nose. He gestured dramatically. “I mean, he’s a total idiot. The biggest one I’ve met in his life. I mean, what sane individual thinks they can just _waltz_ into a town, flying around on their stupidly fancy broom, give _me_ a near heart attack, and expect everyone to just buy into the idea that, despite their powerful magic, they just want to be their errand boy? Pretty presumptuous, if you ask me.”  
Circe hopped off the table, wincing at the landing, and padded over to the kitchen.  
Robbie scowled. “I guess you’re not much better though. I’m insulting your owner and you can’t even be bothered to listen. Some loyal pet you are.” He said, chuckling to himself.  
Circe continued to ignore the man.  
Robbie’s chuckling died out, and his frown returned. He tapped his fingers against his arm, looking away thoughtfully. He glanced at the general area the cat was. “Look feline, I saved your life. So, in theory, you owe me a favor. So, explain to me _why_ your stupid owner keeps being nice to me. He says he did it because he wants to, but that’s not enough. I don’t know anyone in the history of ever who’d want to be friends with someone just because.” He shook his head. “It’s not like I’ve given him a good reason to persist. He gifted me oranges and, while it’s a beyond ridiculous gift, I still threw them at his head and left them out on my stoop to rot.”  
Circe leapt up onto the counter and pointed her tail at the basket of decomposing fruit.  
“I didn’t want it to litter my stoop! That’s why it’s in here! I’m just too lazy to throw it out.” Robbie snapped, glaring at the familiar.  
Circe walked away, heading towards the fridge.  
Robbie sighed and continued. “I send that pesky crow after him, he doesn’t even mind. I nearly _kill_ you both and he not only forgives me, but wants to keep _chatting_ with me afterwards. It makes no sense!” he ranted.   
The fridge door opened. Circe blinked away the small magic glow from her eyes and peered inside.  
Robbie pouted and glared daggers at the cat. “So, what’s his deal then, oh miss magic cat? Why does your owner continue to be kind and forgiving? Why does he still try to socialize with me after I’ve done everything to drive him away? Why did our last conversation leave me feeling so – “  
He stopped. The silence was all too clear. Circe looked at him with curious eyes, a sardine half in her mouth. A full-on, rosy pink blush had eclipsed Robbie’s face. His mind had queued up the memory of that day. Golden hair, blue eyes, strong arms holding him. His face was burning again, and the room suddenly felt intensely hot. He shook off the thought, clearing his throat and turning away.  
“Never mind. I don’t need your input, I have my answer already. He’s a moron, that’s the long and short of it. He’s an idiotic witch that may not destroy the town, but he still causes more trouble than it’s worth.” He muttered, an unspoken “trouble to me” lingering in the air. He turned away, ignoring the other half of his sandwich.  
Circe looked at him, chewing and swallowing the last of her sardine. Closing the fridge door behind her, Circe hopped down to the ground and trotted over to the armchair. She sat herself down at Robbie’s feet, watching him with unblinking eyes as his eyes drifted to the wall, staring aimlessly into space.

The silence remained between the two until Robbie had gone off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lazy title XD
> 
> This is actually half of a single chapter that I decided to split into two because, despite the fact it's not finished, it's already taken up /twenty/ pages in my Word document. So also sorry for the slightly abrupt stop. I hope to post the second half later this week.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Not sure if I like this one, but hopefully you all enjoy it regardless.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. The Night Parade

Mayor Meanswell hummed to himself as he stirred the soup, sniffing the savory aroma that wafted up from the pot. He was cooking up the perfect meal for such a rainy day: chicken and rice soup, with some celery, carrots, and corn mixed in. A simple dish, so simple that it’s almost like it came out of a can.

Which it did. Mayor Meanswell wasn’t a very good cook.

As he continued to stir the vegetable and meat concoction, his ears perked up at the rattling sound that hit the window panes. Looking to his side, he pursed his lips with worry as he watched the onslaught of rain pick up speed, slamming raindrops against his windows at an alarming rate. He laid down the ladle and paced over to the window, glancing out into the streets. Where could Stephanie and Sportacus be? He looked at the clock. 5:46. It was getting late, and he had heard the weatherman forecasting thunder and lightning around 6. With so many trees and streetlights around LazyTown, the last place he wanted his niece and his house guest to be was outside.

He anxiously paced back to the kitchen, blankly looking at the steaming saucepot of soup. He shot a glance at the phone on the wall. He internally kicked himself for deciding against buying Stephanie a cell phone.   
“ _An eight-year-old has no need for a cell phone._ ” He had told himself back then. It made sense at the time, but given his current worry and anxiety, a cell phone might’ve not been such a bad investment. He tapped his fingers nervously against the kitchen counter. Just as he considered grabbing his raincoat and braving the deluge of water, the front door slammed open, and two drenched figures emerged from the downpour. Stephanie sneezed and brushed rain and mud off her coat while Sportacus took off his hood, water dripping off his nose.  
“Stephanie! Sportacus! Oh my, please hurry inside!” the Mayor said nervously.  
Stephanie threw off her boots and sat them by the front door as Sportacus carefully untied the scarf around his neck. Its charms quivered and whined as their connection to his body was severed, and Sportacus could’ve sworn he saw little twinkling lights bounce off their detailing. He slung the dampened cloth over a chair as he unzipped his raincoat. Stephanie took her own coat off and started towards the closet.  
“Oh! Stephanie, here, let me take it. You just sit over in the living room and get warm. You too, Sportacus. Oh my, you both must be freezing!” the Mayor fretted, ushering his niece over towards the wide, plush couch.  
Stephanie made no argument as she silently trudged her way to the sofa. She plopped herself down, allowing her uncle to drape a large, thick blanket around her. Sportacus sat next to her, having grabbed his own blanket. The two looked tiredly and sadly at the floor, only giving occasional, disappointed glances at each other.  
Mayor Meanswell looked perturbed as he saw the two’s morose faces. He snapped his fingers. “Ah! I bet you both are hungry! I don’t blame either of you, being out in such harsh and cold weather must’ve drained your energy. Sit here, I’ll be back with a bowl of soup for both of you!” he said, briskly walking back to the kitchen.

As her uncle walked back to the kitchen, dishes and silverware clattering about, Stephanie looked over at the witch. Sportacus’s eyes were turned down to the ground, eyelids lowered, a tired frown on his face. His fingers played uneasily with the tassels of his blanket, smoothing over the fibers repeatedly, his attention affixed solely on that mindless task.  
Stephanie frowned, and she gave the witch a sympathetic look as she gently placed her hand on his arm.  
“I’m really sorry we couldn’t find her, Sportacus.” She said quietly.  
Sportacus breathed through his nose, closing his eyes to fight back a wave of emotion. He gave a nod and opened his eyes slowly. His gaze rose back to the window. His body felt heavy as he continued to look out, watching the rain pick up its speed and intensity.  
Stephanie’s eyes drifted towards the window as well. “I’m sure she’ll be okay. She’s really tough, and you said she had magic as well, right?”  
Sportacus wordlessly nodded.   
Stephanie gave him a small smile. “Then she’s most likely okay. She’s probably already found shelter and everything. We’ll find her tomorrow, I bet.”  
Sportacus looked at Stephanie, his eyes watering as he looked at her wearily. Stephanie’s smile vanished. “I hope you’re right, Stephanie. I really want to believe you’re right.” He said tiredly. He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes turning back to the window. His hands still fidgeted with the blanket tassels.   
Stephanie leaned back as well. “You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?”  
Sportacus gave a quiet chuckle, and a faint smile crossed his face. “She’s my best friend. She’s been by my side for so many years, I don’t know what I’d do without her. She can be snarky, and maybe a little too harsh and grumpy, but she’s also the most loyal being I know.” His smile faded as he shook his head, burying his face in his hands. “I know **logically** she’s just fine. She’s a powerful familiar, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. But…I just can’t stop worrying. She’s out there, all alone, possibly hurt, and I can’t find her.” His body began to tremble as he sat there.  
Mayor Meanswell, at that moment, came by with the bowls of soup. His cheerful smile vanished as he witnessed the scene in front of him. Awkwardly, he laid down the bowls with their spoons.  
“I’ll just, uh, let you two sort this out, okay? If you need my help, I’ll be over in the dining room, okay?” he said, giving a concerned glance at the witch.  
Stephanie nodded her thanks as her uncle turned and walked to the dining room. She turned her attention back to Sportacus, who was staring blankly out the window. Not sure of what to do, Stephanie did what seemed like a good idea. She wrapped her arms around the crying witch and hugged him carefully. Sportacus gave a surprised gasp as he felt himself suddenly be hugged, a few tears rolling down his face.  
“It’s going to be okay, Sportacus.” Stephanie reassured him, leaning her face against his arm. Her eyes drifted to the couch cushions as a memory popped in her head. She sighed before continuing, “I’ve lost an animal friend before too. I know it’s going to be okay.”

Sportacus looked down at her. “You had a pet go missing?”  
Stephanie gave a weak smile and nodded. “When I was really little, my parents had this older dog named Bartholomew. He was really sweet, he always held himself with dignity, and he loved to chase squirrels around the yard, even though he was like thirteen years old. I really loved him.” She noted. She drew little circles in the couch’s fabric as she continued. “One day, we looked out in the backyard and couldn’t see him. We called his name so many times but he didn’t show up. We were all so worried, we made missing posters for him. I remember crying so hard that night.”  
“I’m really sorry to hear that, Stephanie.” Said Sportacus, looking at her sadly.  
Stephanie smiled. “It ends well. A few days later, Bartholomew showed up on our front porch. Somehow, he’d found his way back home, even though he was old and had left for so long. We all threw a party to welcome him home.” Her smile faded. “I really do miss him sometimes. I miss him and the big backyard at my parents’ house.”  
Sportacus gave her a sympathetic smile and hugged her tightly. She hugged him back slowly, a few tears escaping her.  
“Darn it.” She said with a laugh, brushing away her tears. “I was trying to cheer you up and I just made myself sad.”  
“It’s okay, Stephanie. If I’m helping you feel better, then I won’t worry as much about Circe. You are being helpful.” He said with a smile.  
“I guess I just told you that story to say that Circe will be back. Animals always find their way back, or you always find them somehow.” Stephanie noted, sniffling.  
Sportacus nodded and gave her a small smile. “Thanks Stephanie, that really was helpful.”

The two sat there for a while, allowing their sadness to drift out at its own pace. A few tears and sniffles later, Stephanie finally gestured to the bowls of soup, now noticeably steaming less.  
“We should probably eat this before it gets cold.” Stephanie said.  
Sportacus laughed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Both ate up their bowls with relish. Despite coming straight from a can, after spending all day in the rain, it tasted pretty darn good.

\--

“Hey, noodle man. Wake up.”

Robbie stirred and groaned, shifting his sleeping position. He felt a pair of cold toe beans pat against his cheek.

“Come on, get your butt up. I don’t have all day. Or, night. Whatever.”

Robbie opened one eye, and was greeted with a pair of feline eyes staring straight at him, looking at him impatiently. He groaned, turning his head to look confusedly at the cat in front of him. Circe twitched her tail back and forth, looking at him expectantly.

He frowned, rolling back over to fall asleep again. “Must’ve been something in the honey. Cats are talking all of a sudden.” He mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut lazily.

Circe, losing patience, sat back and laid a hard, clawless swipe at Robbie’s nose.

Instantly Robbie sat up, swinging his arms out angrily as Circe leapt from his lap back onto the floor. He glared at the space around him, before his eyes shot down to the feline, who sat there looking up innocently at the man.

“What was that for, you stupid cat?!” he said grumpily.  
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you not hear my last few tries to wake you up? Sorry princess, you’ve gotten enough beauty sleep. It’s time to move it.” Circe responded with a frown.  
Robbie was about to respond, before he blinked. The situation finally registered in his brain. He rubbed his eyes and looked at Circe again.  
She spoke in a few warbled growls and meows.  
He laid his forehead in his hand. “Okay, still just hallucinating.” He mumbled.  
“Actually, I was just messing with you. You and I are still seriously talking, and you still need to move your heinie. There’s a lot for you to see and you won’t see it sitting there all night.” Circe said.  
Robbie’s eyes widened. His nose twitched nervously as his fingers drummed against the side of his cheek. Cats were talking. _Cats were talking_. He figured he’d lose his mind at some point in his life, but his early twenties seemed a bit early for that to happen. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes before he responded.   
“Okay, Ms. Kitty-Cat, what in the world am I going to be seeing if I go with you?” he asked, deciding to humor the familiar. Hey, if he’d actually lost his mind, might as well take it with some grace.  
Circe’s eyes twinkled with a flash of blue light. “The truth. And probably some weird stuff, but that’s just part of the dream package. Oh, and don’t you dare call me ‘Ms. Kitty-Cat’ again, or you will be smacked.” She said, turning around the skipping towards the door, which swung open on its own accord.  
Robbie had to fight against his mouth, which wanted to gape open at the strange situation in front of him. Part of him wanted to sit there, to not follow the mysterious, talking familiar towards parts unknown. But then again, the cat had promised, what, the _truth_? What did she mean by that? Considering that it didn’t look like she was planning to turn around, Robbie reluctantly got up and followed the feline out the door.

As the door shut behind them, Robbie soon realized that they weren’t out in the street outside his home. Rather, they appeared to be in the middle of a long and winding alleyway. Steam swirled around their legs, and a strange whistling sound permeated the air. Circe sniffed the air cautiously, before turning and looking up at Robbie.  
“Now, I might as well give you some heads-up, since I bet you have a bunch of questions. First off, we’re in a dream. Your dream, to be specific. Walk with me, I’ll keep explaining as we go.” She said, starting her way down the alleyway.  
Robbie walked a footstep behind her, his eyes looking about at the darkened windows and up towards the impossibly star-filled sky. Had this been a typical dream, he might’ve been enjoying how gorgeous the night looked, dotted with so many stars that the sky was more light than darkness. But given his current confusion, such beauty was wasted on him.  
“Second, you’re going to see a lot in the dream. Keep in mind that not everything you see is real or means what it appears. An elephant isn’t always an elephant, for example. Some of it is meaningful and will give you answers to what you’ve been pondering for a while. Some will be complete horse manure just there to provide window dressing. Only you can decide what’s important, got it?”  
“Wait, you said I’d be seeing the truth, but now you’re telling me not everything I’m seeing is meaningful? What am I actually going to be looking at?” asked Robbie in a confused annoyance.  
“Like I said, a bit of both. You don’t take everything you see in dreams at face value, right?”  
“Right.”  
“Then I imagine even a bumbling noodle man like yourself will be able to understand what’s a truth versus your brain being a pretentious prick like all brains are, disguising ideas and truths in lots of metaphor. Take a left up here.”  
Robbie followed the feline down the winding pathways, each looking the exact same as the last. As much as he disliked the company of the snarky, insult-throwing familiar, he begrudgingly had to admit that without her, he would’ve gotten lost several minutes ago.  
“The last thing I’ll tell you is that you’re going to see people you know. People from memories, people from your current life. What you need to remember is that all of them are just part of the dream. I didn’t feel up to expending _that_ much magic. Anything you say to them, do to them, they won’t know about in the waking world. Now that doesn’t mean you get a free pass to drop punch every person you see. If you want the truth, you’ll have to play by the dream’s rules a bit, you hear? Also, on a side note, you may see some memories as we walk along. Don’t worry, I can’t see them, or rather I could, but I don’t care enough to want to see them.” She stopped and looked up at the man. “Any questions?”  
“Yes.” Answered Robbie. “Why are you doing this?”  
Circe blinked. “Two reasons. One, as thanks. It may not seem like it at first, but eventually you’ll get that this is my way of thanking you for saving my life. The other is to finally knock some sense into you and stop that circular train of thought before it goes another round. Seriously, you can be so dense sometimes it drives me crazy.”  
“What train of thought? What are you talking about?”  
“And there you go, giving more proof to my point. Look, you’ll get it when you see it. Just keep following me and try not to stall if you can.” Circe said, rolling her eyes and continuing to walk down the path.

Robbie frowned and shot a glare at the cat before walking again. The two continued to travel down the windy pathways, passing by silhouetted remnants of thoughts and memories. Robbie barely gave most of them a second thought. That is, until they stumbled upon one. They were walking past an intersection, with one path leading to a dead end, when Robbie saw it out of the corner of his eye.  
A young boy sat on a stool, dressed in a purple tunic with little black shoes. His jet-black hair was brushed back, though didn’t appear to have any product in it. The boy’s small, purple wings fluttered as he kicked his legs.  The wings were so fragile and new, they looked like they were made of paper. A wide smile was plastered on his face as he glanced back at the figure behind him.  
And when Robbie realized who the young boy was looking at, he couldn’t repress a shudder of melancholy and grief. A woman sat behind the child, her brown hair tied back in a loose bun, a few strands falling past her ears and framing her face. She looked at the boy with eyes warm and green, her face kissed with freckles. She was dressed in a pale pink gown, a purple sash around her waist, a pair of translucent wings like a dragonfly’s extended behind her. She held a hand out to the boy, who handed her a washcloth in turn.  
“Thank you, Robbie. You’re doing very well. Just another minute or so and you can run off and play.” She said with a voice low and sweet.  
Robbie shivered as the voice met his ears.  
The younger Robbie looked up at her curiously. “Momma, why do we have to clean my wings so much? They’ve been out for almost three months! They don’t bleed anymore!”  
“Because Robbie, this helps keep their color bright and vibrant. And your wings should be your pride and joy. Thus, we clean them.” She explained patiently, gently running the washcloth over the boy’s left wing.  
The young Robbie nodded, and smiled at his mother. “You must wash your wings a lot then.”  
“Oh? And why do you think that?”  
The young Robbie grinned and, in unison, both the young Robbie and the adult Robbie responded with, “Because your wings are so beautiful, they put rainbows to shame!”, the younger Robbie’s voice portraying his enthusiasm and boundless love while the adult Robbie’s voice cracked with emotion and world-weariness, yet still love.  
His mother smiled, and pulled the young Robbie in for a hug. She pressed a kiss atop his head. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”  
“I love you too, Momma.” Responded the young Robbie.  
The older Robbie stayed there, watching the reflection of his younger self and his mother embrace each other. Tears pricked the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over as he watched, fighting the waves of tumultuous emotions and painful memories the sight had dredged up from his subconscious. Unconsciously, he wrapped arms around his chest, his fingers feeling gently at his shoulder blades.  
Circe, seeing how distressed the man was getting, bit and tugged at his pant leg. Robbie looked down at the cat with watery eyes.  
“Come on, we should keep going. This isn’t the reason we’re here.” Circe said in a voice both firm yet sympathetic. She may not have been able to see what he saw, but she could tell that whatever it was, it dug up something painful for him.  
Robbie glanced over as the cat began to walk away. He gave one last, mournful look at the memory, before he too turned away, rejoining the feline.

The two continued to walk through the alleyway, the strange whistling growing louder as they drew close to the opening. Robbie wiped away the tears from his face, stopping in his tracks as Circe’s continuous rhythm slowed to a halt. He looked out into the street, or more _tried_ , since the roadways were filled with steam and smoke, obscuring any discernible landmarks or even basic characteristics. He frowned and looked down at the cat.  
“Is this what you wanted me to look at? A foggy road?” he asked.  
“Geez, you’re ridiculously impatient, you know that? Give me a minute noodle man, I need to regather my magic. Nearly dying makes that a little tricky you know.” Circe retorted, shutting her eyes.  
Robbie quirked an eyebrow at the feline. “I have a name you know. And it’s not ‘noodle man’.”  
“I know. I’ll call you by whatever your real name is once you stop being stupid.”  
“Fine. Then I’ll call you ‘Ms. Kitty-Cat’ until you call me by my real name.” Robbie said with an air of pride.  
“You do that, and I’ll alter this dream so you have to run on a treadmill covered in hornets for several hours while giving a speech and your teeth are falling out. It’ll be unpleasant, and you most definitely won’t learn much from it, other then don’t piss off a witch’s familiar. Got it, noodle man?”  
Robbie shut his mouth, but continued to glare daggers at the familiar.  
Circe sighed in relief. She refocused her attention to collecting her magic, her whiskers rising up as a blue aura built around her body. Robbie watched in amazement as the light crackled and glowed, building around her eyes, whiskers and, strangely enough, the two markings on her back. She hummed and whispered ancient words quietly under her breath, the mist and smoke swirling into thick pools on the street.  
“Clear.” She finally uttered, and her eyes shot open. A sound akin to a tiny bell rang through the air, and the smoke instantly cleared away, allowing Robbie to look into the street.

He didn’t even come close to expecting what he saw next.

It was like a parade; a parade pulled straight from every hack fantasy book and drug addict’s fever dream in existence. Robbie jumped back as a creature that was composed of a Japanese futon with dozens of spindling, thin legs crawled past, a half-filled wooden bucket on its head. Right behind it, a long-necked monster with the head of a capybara walked close to its heels, straightening out its tail coat and bowtie. A blob-like, flying slug swerved and wiggled past Robbie’s head, uttering a small and squeaky “excuse me” as it passed. There were many more, of course, almost too many for Robbie to process. A creature that looked like an umbrella hopped down the road, its red tongue sticking out and its single eye boggling about. A group of sole-like beings with thick, jelly-like antennae slithered past, burbling to each other about whatever those sole-like monsters prefer to do. A gray monster, standing a good several feet taller than Robbie, lumbered past, looking like a panda or cat with taller, pointier ears. It had a leaf on its head and was carrying an umbrella. Robbie mused for a moment whether this action offended the umbrella creature.  
But in the end, the amusing thought wasn’t enough to keep Robbie from sinking down to his knees, both in awe and absolutely terrified by the sight in front of him. His body shook as he took in everything he saw. Circe peered at him as a towering creature with ears of a llama and legs like an inverted gazelle, stopped in its path and looked down at Robbie with its six eyes.  
“Hey mam, is he alright? I’ve got some syrup of ipecac right here if he needs it. O-Or perhaps some smelling salts?” The creature suggested, its voice quiet and fluttery.  
Circe shook her head. “No thanks, Markrel. He’s just a wuss when it comes to new things. Give him a minute and he’ll be right as rain.” She said, gesturing with her paw.  
Markrel nodded and walked off, placing his medicine back in his shoulder bag. Circe turned her attention back to the panicking man, who was current giving a hundred-yard stare at the multitudes of strolling creatures.  
“Oh come on, you can’t seriously be _that_ gobsmacked, could you? As a magic user, you couldn’t be unaware of the passive spirits, right?” Circe said.  
“Passive what now?” Robbie gasped out, his eyes still fixed to the road.  
Circe’s eyes widened. “Passive spirits? You know, the ones that fill the entire world? The ones that fell hidden after their cultures either passed on or people forgot about them?”  
Robbie looked at her in fearful confusion.  
“You haven’t, have you.” She noted flatly.  
“T-Think I would’ve remembered that if I had.” Robbie mumbled.  
Circe sighed and shook her head. She ushered the man back up on his feet. “Look, we don’t have time to go talking about the passive spirits right now. They’re more window dressing, remember? The thing, or person, you’re after is up there.” She said, pointing her tail to the right.  
Robbie peeked around the corner. Levitating a few feet up on his broom was Sportacus, his back turned to Circe and Robbie, the low whistling Robbie had heard throughout the alley being supplied by a small wooden flute he was playing.  
Robbie gave a weak sneer. “Sportaflop? HE’S the reason you’re taking me through this acid trip of a dream?”  
Circe groaned. “Yes, and you’d better not start asking me questions on that either, or we’ll be here all day! Your ride is about to arrive so just get in! I’m not going to follow you for this part so just play along with the dream and you’ll get what you came for! Now, move it!” she said grumpily.  
Robbie opened his mouth to ask another question, but was interrupted as a wall of magic threw him forward into the spirit filled street.

Robbie flinched as he flew through the air, preparing for his face to meet the hard and rough asphalt. Instead of the harsh and terribly painful landing, however, instead he was greeted with a sickening _slop_ and the cool, slightly unpleasant and squishy feeling of a gelatinous solution surrounding and imprisoning his body. Forcing one eye open, Robbie had to fight back the urge to gasp in alarm as he saw his world filtered through an artificial green lens. A low chuckle echoed through his odd prison, making the substance wiggle and shake.  
“Hold…on…tight…I…won’t…hurt…you…” said the voice, low and slow.  
The gelatin substance wiggled and moved more as Robbie peered down, seeing hundreds of tiny, centipede like legs sprout from underneath the amoeba like creature. They slithered and slunk down the streets, passing by obscured and hazy images of other spirits that Robbie couldn’t describe even if he wanted to. He looked up, seeing Sportacus and his broom grow closer rapidly.  
“Oh Reginald, see who’s here? A stranger to our humble get together!” rang a voice through the jelly.  
Robbie’s attention snapped to his surroundings, where the silhouettes of multiple fancy partygoers seemed to be suspended in the larger creature.  
“Indeed Irene, he seems like quite the dandy! Probably wonderful at parties I’d say!” said another voice, belonging to a well-dressed gentleman.  
“Shame he won’t be staying with us. I hear he’s got an appointment with a gentleman caller!” chittered another female voice.  
Robbie’s face flushed bright red, both from embarrassment and consternation.  
“Oh my! Well, let us all have a toast to wish him luck! Cheers to the mysterious gentleman!” said the one named Reginald.  
“We…are…here…” spoke the gelatin monster again.  
Robbie could feel himself be pushed upwards by the surrounding jelly. The silhouettes waved to him as the sound of clinking crystal glasses filled his ears.  
“Bye bye!”  
“Tah tah!”  
“Cheerio, good chap!”  
Another _slop_ and Robbie was ejected up into the air. He flailed his arms aimlessly, preparing a loud and terrified scream, before his chest met roughly with the wood of the broomstick. He choked out a gasp and he clung to the broom fearfully, the steady hovering only displaced a moment by his landing. Underneath him the gelatin monster gave a slight bow before rushing away, carrying the odd and impossibly unreal dinner party with him.

The low whistling died out as Sportacus turned, looking down at his new companion. He gave the man a toothy smile. “Mr. Rotten! I’m surprised to see you here!” he said cheerily.  
“Yeah, the feeling is mutual.” Robbie groused, heaving himself up to sit properly on the broomstick.  
Sportacus looked at the man with concern. “Are you okay there? Need some help?”  
“No, I’m fine. I ride cleaning supplies several feet up in the air multiple times a day.” Robbie said sarcastically, gripping the broomstick tightly.  
Sportacus chuckled. “You’re quite a strange man, Mr. Rotten.”  
“Says the man who talks to a cat.” Retorted Robbie with a smirk.  
“Well, I heard you talking to her earlier, so I think you’re not one to talk.” Sportacus said with a shrug, pulling the flute back up to his lips.  
Robbie frowned, his shoulders slumping. “ _Touché._ ” He muttered. He watched for some time as Sportacus blew into the thin, wooden flute. The sound wasn’t the high-pitched squealing that Robbie expected, rather the sound was haunting and thin, like the wind blowing through the glades. The ringing of bells caught his attention, and he fought to keep himself from being startled off the broom as a few spirits flew past his ears, looking like strange iron bells with paper dangling from their undersides off strings. Said bell creatures hovered past Sportacus, their papers tickling his nose, eliciting a giggle from him.  
Robbie just rolled his eyes. He figured that the witch would enjoy something as surreal as their current situation. As the bell creatures floated away, Robbie remembered what the cat had said. He was _supposed_ to be here to figure out some sort of truth. But, what truth? Obviously, it was a truth involving Sportacus, hence why he was here. He thought over what the familiar had said. This Sportacus, the one he was sitting next to, wasn't the real one. So, once the dream was over, he'd cease to exist. But this Sportacus also might not have the same reservations on _secrets_ and personal reasons as the real life Sportacus. Robbie's eyes widened. Ah, this must be what Circe meant. He could finally draw some real answers from the witch.

"Hey Mr. Rotten, would you like to - " Sportacus began to say, offering his flute to the man.  
"Be honest with me Sportacus, why do you keep forgiving me?" Robbie asked bluntly.  
Sportacus's smile faded, and he blinked in confusion. "What?"  
"The other day, you told me you forgave me just because you wanted to. That reason is still stupid, like I told you, and if you won't tell me in real life I figured I'd ask you here. So, why have you been so kind and forgiving even after I've nearly killed you and hurt you on multiple occasions?" Robbie asked, staring down the witch.  
Sportacus pursed his lips, looking away for a minute in thought. He smirked, then shrugged his shoulders. "Mr. Rotten, I don't think there's much more to it than that. I forgave you because I wanted to."  
"But that's not good enough, and you know it. Why then? What's your real reason?" Robbie snapped.  
Sportacus looked at him blankly, a concerned confusion crossing his face. He lowered his eyes and bit his lip. "I...well, what do you think? Did I have another reason?"  
“Don’t you answer my question with another question! What’s the real reason?”  
“I…um, don’t know? I bet there’s another reason, but I don’t remember it?”  
Robbie was about to angrily respond to the witch's seemingly idiotic answer, before he stopped himself. He then slapped his face in realization.  
"M-Mr. Rotten?" asked Sportacus with concern.  
"Of course, you're just a stupid dream character. You're not the real deal, so I can't learn anything new. Even if I did, it could just be filler supplied by the dream. Anything I hear that might make a lick of sense probably..." Robbie muttered to himself, sighing at the end of the sentence. Of course, this made him confused as to _how_ he'd find truth if the one source he had couldn't tell him anything new. But if he was stuck in this dream, he thought he'd might as well try. Though now he wasn't sure what he expected to learn.  
The dream Sportacus, meanwhile, blinked confusedly. "I...I'm a dream character?" he asked quietly, looking increasingly uneasy.  
Robbie looked up. "Don't think about it. You'll burst a brain cell or something. Trust me. Or not, whatever." He said, awkwardly placing a hand on the witch’s shoulder.  
Sportacus took in a deep breath and nodded. "Okay Mr. Rotten, I'll try not to. I trust you."  
Robbie was about to loudly question how, again, Sportacus even in the dream world was so quick to trust and side with him. Then, he remembered, _dream_ Sportacus. Also, something the cat said about following the dream's rules and progression. Right, his questioning wouldn't do any good anyways on that basis alone. He sighed, bracing himself for whatever the dream was going to tell and reveal to him. "Alright, Sportasnooze, what were you about to ask me before our little tangent?"

Sportacus's face lit up and he eagerly handed his flute to the man. "Oh! I was going to ask if you'd like to try my flute!"  
Robbie cocked an eyebrow at the offering. "May I ask _why_ you want me to try it? Or, for that matter, why _you_ were playing it earlier? I could hear it all the way from my house."  
Sportacus rolled the flute around in his hand and smiled. "I’m actually casting a spell when I play. The passive spirits don’t have much of a presence in the material world, so the spell I’m making allows them to be more visible and feel more…whole again.” He explained with a patient smile.  
“Why? They’re passive spirits, right? Meaning they don't interact much with the world anyways, right? Why give them a more material form again?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus gave a warm smile to the spirits below. “I’ve always liked helping those who need it, including those left unappreciated or forgotten. It may seem like a small and silly gesture, but the spirits truly are happy when I can give them a little more of their presence back. It’s always just for one night a month, but even to just have that one moment of feeling like they’re a part of the world again must be unimaginably wonderful.”  
“That’s pretty sappy, Sportakook.” Robbie said, giving the witch a look.  
Sportacus laughed. “If you say so, but if you could see how ecstatic the spirits get when I play my song, you’d get it.” He smiled as he offered the flute once more. "Now it's your turn! Give it a try!"  
Robbie shrunk back. He put up his hands. “Uh, no thanks. I’m tone deaf. And, uh, I’m allergic to wooden flutes. And a pile of sheet music ran over my dog.”  
“Mr. Rotten, it’s okay!” Sportacus coaxed. He gave him an encouraging smile. “Just this once?”  
Robbie, against his usual obstinance, felt his will fade as he continued to look into the enthusiastic man’s eyes. He didn't want to take the flute, but he felt something...tugging at his usual defenses. Something that sped up his heartrate. He shook off that unfortunately familiar feeling and simply wrote off the tugging as a reminder to follow the dream's progression. He ignored it and snatched the flute from the witch’s hands.  
“Fine. But if you go deaf from my playing, it’s your own darn fault, got it?” Said Robbie, with less venom than he intended to use. Raising the end to his lips, Robbie blew gently into the wooden instrument, clumsily covering the holes with his fingers. A strangely uneven tune that hovered between high and low rang through the flute. Frowning, Robbie fumbled across the flute, choosing a choice finger position. He blew again, and this time a sweet and sad sound filled the air. He adjusted his fingers and the note rose up to a major note. He closed his eyes, feeling the magic swirl around his fingers and arms. The sensation of a feather tickling his ears made him open his eyes again, just in time to see a giggling bird-like spirit hovering around his head, smiling happily before it flew towards Sportacus.

"Aww, hi there! You look very happy to be here again!" Sportacus said cheerily.  
Robbie simply rolled his eyes as he continued to play. The witch was being dorky again, as if anything else was new. Nor was the warmth in his cheeks new, but he fought off that feeling a bit harder.  
"Light! Light!" chittered the spirit.  
Sportacus nodded, and snapped his fingers. Small sparks flew off his fingertips, zipping through the sky. The spirit cheered, clapping its fingerless hands together.  
"More! More!" it coaxed.  
Sportacus obliged, creating more flashes of light.  
"Brighter! Brighter!" the spirit said more urgently. It placed its hand on Sportacus's, the witch's hand becoming encompassed in light. Sportacus gasped as his next finger snap sent a brighter and more violent flash straight towards Robbie. His flute playing was cut off with a warped squeak, the flute falling to the ground.  
The witch’s eyes grew wide. “Mr. Rotten! Are you okay??” he asked worriedly.  
Robbie groaned and rubbed his eyes, fumbling as his glasses fell off his face. Sportacus, luckily, caught them before they tumbled to the ground. He blinked, realizing at that moment that despite the flash of bright magic, he wasn’t in pain. It’d smacked him right in the face, but he couldn’t even feel a scratch. He ran a hand across his face in surprise. Could this Sportacus’s magic not hurt him in this world?  
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his chin, turning his face towards the still panicked witch’s face. Robbie could feel himself grow warm again.  
Shakily, Sportacus brought his glasses up to his face, being careful not to accidentally poke him with the glasses’ tips. “H-Here, I caught your glasses. Are you okay? You haven’t said anything yet.”  
Blinking, Robbie cleared his throat and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I-I’m fine, Sportadork. Next time though, be more careful with your magic.”  
“You’re not hurt?”  
“Surprisingly, no.” Robbie responded. He looked down at his hands, his shoulders relaxing as he looked himself over. For whatever reason, he could feel himself relax at the revelation. He should’ve known that magic probably wouldn’t affect him in dreams, but the concrete evidence still helped him feel more at ease. There was now an additional luxury with this dream version of Sportacus: the two were on an even playing field. No magic to separate or place Sportacus on a higher ground. The thought was actually somewhat soothing for Robbie. He could feel his guard shrink back as he processed that thought. The hardened frown on his face faded to a neutral expression.  
Sportacus leaned away, frowning as the worry didn’t vanish from his face. “I mean, I’m glad that you’re not hurt, but…” he noted quietly.  
Robbie shook his head. “I-It’s okay, Sportakook. Really, it’s fine.” A thin smile crossed his face. “I mean, in a dark sort of way, we’re even right? I almost killed you, you almost hurt me with your magic. So, we both did something awful on accident to each other.”  
Sportacus looked up at the man in surprise. A half-smile crossed his face. “I mean, sure? Didn’t exactly want to get even on something like _that_ though.”  
“It just proves that you’re not a Mister Goody-Good. Or at least you’re clumsier than I thought with your magic.”  
An embarrassed blush crossed the witch’s face. “B-But neither is good!”  
“Exactly. You’re not Mr. Perfect. That’s not such a bad thing to be.” Robbie said with a smirk.  
Sportacus shrunk a bit, then chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Still, I’m glad you’re okay.”  
“As am I.” noted Robbie without a thought. He peered down at the ground, cringing as he noticed the shattered flute. “Um, sorry about breaking your flute.”  
Sportacus shrugged. “It’s okay. I can make another one. Besides, I was going to stop playing soon. The spirits have enough energy to remain present on their own. Thought I’d do something else.”  
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”  
Sportacus turned his head up to the sky, a warm smile crossing his face. “Stargazing.”

Robbie’s eyes followed Sportacus, and his mouth gaped open at the sight. The sky was alight with millions upon millions of glittering, bright stars. Pale white stars with sparse trails of stardust zipped through the sky, breaking through the tightly knitted quilt of constellations and galaxies. Tiny pin-prick like dots of blue, yellow, and red broke through the darkened blue and white of the night sky, creating a kaleidoscope like display of nighttime beauty.  
Robbie was left in awe at the sight.  
Sportacus looked over and smiled. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”  
“Absolutely stunning.” Robbie couldn’t stop himself from quietly uttering.  
Sportacus’s smile grew warmer as he turned his attention back up to the sky.  
“I’ve…never seen a sky this full of stars.” Robbie noted.  
“Pretty sure there hasn’t been one like this since the dawn of man.” Commented Sportacus.  
Robbie looked over at the witch. “Then how are we seeing it?”  
“It’s magic, I wouldn’t question it.” Sportacus shrugged.  
“You’re really terrible at explanations, you know that?” Robbie stated, giving the witch a look.  
“Yeah? Well you’re terrible at…at…” Sportacus said, struggling for a comeback.  
Robbie smirked. He’d finally one at these silly exchanges. “Terrible at what?”  
A sly smile crossed Sportacus’s face. He looked at the man mischievously. “…You’re terrible at hiding your blushing.”  
And at that statement, Robbie’s face began to burn a bright red. His defenses immediately rose to their full power as he scrambled internally for his retort. All he came up with was, “No I’m not!”, which he knew was a pretty pathetic response.  
Sportacus chuckled, sitting back on his broom. “Admit it, you are. You’re blushing right now.”  
Robbie’s hand shot up to cover the lower half of his face. “No, I’m not.” He muttered.  
Sportacus looked at the man with a warm, half-smile. “So, what’s the blush for? Do you like me? Is that what’s up?”  
“What? No! I mean – “Robbie rambled, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. “I mean, yes! But not like…ugh! Look, it’s confusing okay!” he exclaimed. He looked away as Sportacus’s smile vanished, a concerned look crossing his face. “My whole life, I’ve learned that witches are dangerous and should be avoided at all costs. I still don’t know if associating with you is a good idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure that it isn’t! But…but I’d be lying if…” he said, sighing. His hardened frown softened as his eyes drifted to the ground. “…if I didn’t admit that I did enjoy talking with you. You’re still annoying, of course, and way too happy. But I’ve never really had someone I could talk to like that. It’s…it’s nice.” He looked up and gave the witch a look. “I’m only admitting all this because you’re not real, you know. You’re just a dream, not the real thing. Once I wake up, none of this will matter.”  
The look faded as he saw the confusion cross Sportacus’s face again. “Don’t think too hard about it. Sorry, shouldn’t have said that.”  
“It’s okay.” Sportacus noted quietly.  
“It’s just…this is all too confusing for me. I’m barely comprehending the idea that a witch like yourself really wouldn’t harm myself or anyone else. And then everything else,” he said, the blush returning once more. “well, that doesn’t help matters.

Robbie nearly squeaked in surprise as he felt a hand cover his. He gulped and looked over, seeing Sportacus’s eyes staring straight into his own. A small, warm smile appeared on the witch’s face.  
“It’s okay, Mr. Rotten. I mean, I don’t know why you hate witches so much, but whatever the reason it’s obviously affected you badly. But you’re trying, and that’s what matters.” He closed his hand around the man’s cautiously. “And I’ll promise you right now that I’d never hurt you on purpose. Ever. Does that help to hear that?”  
“I don’t know.” Mumbled Robbie. He shook his head. “I…it’s all so confusing.”  
“Do you think you like me?”  
Robbie looked up, breathing in sharply through his nose as he turned to the witch again. His brain fought with him as he geared for his answer. He simply reminded his mind that, again, this was a dream. “Maybe? I think, but I don’t know what to do about it.”  
Sportacus smiled warmly. Carefully, he laid his hand against Robbie’s cheek, rubbing his thumb against the man’s cheekbone. “You do whatever you feel comfortable with. In the end, you decide what you want to do about it.”  
As soon as the witch’s hand laid against his face, Robbie shivered at the feeling of human contact. It’d been how many years since he’d actually been given such attention? Regardless, Robbie felt a conflicting combination of warmth and nervousness. He wasn’t sure whether to lean into the touch or pull away. Part of him wanted to pull away. Deny this. But this also felt very nice. He looked at the witch. He wondered if his whole face was red as he gazed at the witch’s face. Man, those blues near _glittered_ in the moonlight. And well, at Robbie could confirm that the witch’s hair was blonde. Golden blonde. What little that stuck out of that stupid cap curled slightly too.   
There was pull between them, almost. Robbie began to lean in, and Sportacus followed accordingly. Robbie placed a hand gently on the side of Sportacus’s face, mirroring Sportacus. He closed his eyes, last seeing Sportacus do the same as the gap grew smaller and smaller. A mixture of fear, hesitation, yet excitement ran through Robbie. Was he really doing this? Of all people to kiss, he picks a witch? A type of magic user he feared and hated for so long? But the memory of the witch’s smile and the near glow that seemed to surround him hushed the doubts in Robbie’s head. No, this would be nice. He could hear his heart beat in his ears as they drew closer together.

That is, until a rush of wind halted their kiss. Both men clutched onto the broom as a large, flying spirit flew overhead, its large wings beating through the air. Robbie heard the tell-tale sound of fluttering fabric, and as he opened his eyes, he saw Sportacus frantically fishing through the air for his wayward hat. The witch caught it, and he sat up, his cap in his hands.  
But as soon as the witch sat upright, Robbie could feel his heart bunch up and freeze in alarm.  
Robbie shuddered and shook as he took in the sight. Without the cap, the witch couldn’t hide what was under his hat. And what was underneath it… _gods_.   
Tree branches, spindling and dry, twisted and sprawled from the sea of golden curls, growing ever longer as their wooden arms stretched towards the sky. Robbie let out a fearful noise as he stumbled back, his eyes fixed to the horrifyingly monstrous plant life growing from the witch’s head.  
“Mr. Rotten? Is everything okay?” Sportacus asked worriedly.  
Robbie shook his head fearfully. No, everything was _not_ alright. A crack of thunder rang out overhead. He looked up, and tears welled up in his eyes as he saw the starlit sky be overtaken by a bright orange color. The smell of smoke filled the air, and Robbie couldn’t hold back the tears that flowed down his face. He could hear those nightmarish sounds: wood creaking and breaking, screams, the crackling of embers.  
He gasped desperately for air, but the air absolutely burned in his throat.  
“Mr. Rotten?” Sportacus asked again.  
Robbie couldn’t answer. It was all too much. As he blacked out, he felt himself falling off the broom, the world around him vanishing before he hit the ground.

\--

Robbie thrashed away his blanket, tumbling to the floor as he finally awoke. His chest rose up and down, his eyes looking around warily as he finally began to process his surroundings. The cloth on his sewing table still sat untouched, several paper patterns strewn across them. The basket of moldy oranges laid in a gross, slightly sticky pile on his countertop. The half-eaten sandwich from yesterday still sat on the arm of his chair. He sighed, covering his eyes with his arm. It really was all a dream. _This_ all was real.

A meow coaxed him to move his arm. His eyes looked up, and met with the heterochromic eyes of his feline house guest. She looked at him with a hint of concern, her tail twitching back and forth.  
He frowned, lowering his eyes at the cat. “So, that dream, was that really all your doing?” he asked, his voice still thick from sleep.  
Circe gave a small nod.  
Robbie felt a bit of surprise at the rather simple, no need for interpretation response. He continued to frown at her nonetheless. “Not talking to me today? Or, I guess, can you talk to me right now?”  
Circe shook her head.  
“Of course, too ridiculous to expect to talk to a witch’s familiar in the waking world.” He grumbled. He shot the cat a look. “Your dream wasn’t helpful, by the way. So, I’m not thanking you. I didn’t learn much of anything from that dream. Just that apparently my honey is spiked with LSD because it was really weird.”  
Circe gave him a look, paired with a low meow.  
Robbie’s cheeks grew pink again and he glared at the cat. “Shut up.” He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Fine, sure I did figure some things out. Doesn’t mean it’ll change how I act around your owner.”  
Circe just shrugged and turned away. She began to groom her coat once more.  
“I mean that by the way.” Robbie said firmly.  
Circe gave him a look that, despite being unable to speak to the man, clearly said “ _You’re acting stupid again, and you and I both know you aren’t telling the truth. Just accept whatever your stupid noodle brain is thinking so we both stop sitting here hitting our heads against walls._ ”  
Robbie’s nose twitched, his hard frown fading to a crooked line. He brought himself back into a proper sitting position and drummed his fingers against his knee. He leaned his head against his armchair.  He wanted to argue more with the cat, but not only did he know that he was arguing with a _cat_ (which would usually get him sent to some sort of ward, he was sure), but he also knew the argument was futile. The cat was right; he wouldn’t be able to act the same way towards the witch. _How_ he’d act now, though, was a whole other question.

Before he could ponder this any longer, however, a sharp rap against his door broke him out of his thoughts.  
Circe meowed, her attention fixed upon the door.   
Robbie groaned and dragged himself up to his feet. He smoothed his hair as much as he could and fixed his glasses as he strode towards his front door. He could still hear the rain pounding against the pavement outside. How long was this rainstorm going to last? He pulled the door open and, not much to his surprise, he was greeted by the sight of a very wet and very frantic witch on his stoop.  
“Morning, Sportadrenched.” Robbie said, cocking an eyebrow at the sight.  
Sportacus, trying his best to force a nonchalant appearance, smiled at the man. “Good morning, Mr. Rotten! Sorry to disturb you, were you asleep?”  
“Nah, I just woke up. Had a weird dream wake me up.” Robbie replied, waving off the witch’s concern.  
“Oh, well, I’m glad I didn’t wake you up.” Sportacus said with a weakening smile.  
Robbie frowned as he watched the man’s twitching smile. He wondered why he didn’t just say immediately why he was here, or why he bothered with pleasantries if he was so obviously perturbed. “So, is there a reason you’re on my stoop at who knows what time in the morning? Or just wanted to practice your impression of the morning newspaper?” Robbie asked with a smirk, knowing full well his attempt at humor was, honestly, pretty lame.  
“What?” asked Sportacus with confusion. Realization lit up his face. “Oh! N-No, actually…” His smile vanished. “I was wondering if you’ve seen Circe, my cat. She’s been missing since last night and I’ve been searching for her everywhere but can’t find her! I wanted to ask you last night but you weren’t answering and I…I…” he said, his eyes beginning to water.  
“Woah, relax Sportawitch, it’s okay. I have her right here.” Robbie said reassuringly. He stepped off to the side, revealing the heavily bandaged but very lively cat.  
Circe meowed cheerfully.

Sportacus gasped. “CIRCE!” he cried in relief. He bent down and held his arms out wide as Circe ran over to him. He plucked her up into a hug, only letting go slightly as she let out a pained meow. He petted her head and stroked her back, unashamedly allowing a few tears to fall onto her sleek black fur. He looked back up at Robbie, a relieved and warm smile on his face. “T-Thank you so much, Mr. Rotten. I was so worried about her.”  
Robbie gave a half-smile. “It was no big deal really. Just might want to keep her away from the crows for a while. She got into a nasty spat with a bunch of them.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. He glanced down at his familiar, taking in the thick bandaging around her middle. She looked at him apologetically. “Did she attack them?”  
“No, don’t think so. They might’ve been messing with her or something.” Robbie replied.  
A croaky caw caught both men’s attentions. They turned to see a very ruffled and bruised crow sitting up on the storm pipe, watching them intently. Robbie glared at the crow while Circe hissed at him.  
“Did he attack her?” Sportacus said, holding Circe closer to his chest.  
Robbie nodded. “Pretty sure he did. Your cat _really_ doesn’t like him. Not that I disagree with her, that pest has been living in my house for months.”  
Sportacus looked at Robbie in surprise. “Pest? I figured Hannin there was your pet!”  
“No, definitely not.” Robbie said, shaking his head. He stopped. “Wait, who’s Hannin?”  
Sportacus pointed to the crow. “That’s Hannin.”  
“How do you know his name?”  
“He told me one day. He’s a bit of a fireball, but I think he’s taken a liking to you.” Sportacus noted with a laugh.  
Robbie frowned. “Well tell him the feeling’s not mutual.” He grumbled, shooting the crow a look.  
Sportacus just laughed, while Circe hissed again at Hannin. The crow flapped its wings and flew away once more.

Once the crow had vanished, Sportacus’s laughter slowed to a stop. He looked at Robbie once more. “Mr. Rotten, I just wanted to – “  
“Listen, Sportaflop, you don’t have to be so formal with me anymore. Really, it’s weird. Makes me feel like an old man. Just call me Robbie, okay?” he said.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? You don’t mind?”  
“Nah, it’s probably easier for you anyways.”  
Sportacus’s eyes nearly twinkled, a crooked and silly smile crossing his face. “O-Okay! Well, Robbie, I just wanted to say thank you again for taking care of her. It means a lot to me, and just…thank you.” He said warmly.  
Robbie smiled and shrugged. “And like I said before, it was nothing. She wasn’t too bad; maybe a bit snarky for my tastes, but she was fine. Just glad that – “Robbie began to say, before stopping. He lowered his eyes as he examined Sportacus’s outfit. His eyes fixed upon the garment that hung around the witch’s neck. “Is that one of MY scarves??”  
A faint blush crossed Sportacus’s cheeks. “Y-Yeah, it is. Does it look okay?”  
Robbie looked over the witch’s ensemble. The deep purple tones of the scarf, paired with the silver embellishments that covered the accessory in glittery swirls, seemed to go well enough with the witch’s basic, black raincoat. Admittedly, pairing anything with black wasn’t that difficult, but for Robbie seeing the witch in something other than his usual blue and white was refreshing. He gave an approving nod. “Looks alright. I think purple might be your color.” He remarked with a smirk.  
“Really? I much prefer blue, but this purple is nice too.” Answered Sportacus.  
“Preferred color and most complimentary color are completely different.” Said Robbie.  
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite color?” asked Sportacus.  
“Purple.”  
“And yet you look great in purple?”  
Robbie’s cheeks took on a pink color. He cleared his throat. “Mere coincidence with me, I guess. _Usually_ the two aren’t the same color.” He looked at the man curiously. “You think I look good in the purple?”  
“I’ll take your word on it, Robbie.” Sportacus noted, chuckling with some delight at being able to address the man so informally. He smiled. “And yes, you do.”

Robbie’s blush grew darker. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Don’t you have some errands to run or something?” he asked.  
Sportacus’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Yeah, I do actually. Jackson Troubleby wanted me to deliver some oranges to Stingy’s maid. They’re making a marmalade, apparently.” He said, turning around to prepare to fly off. He stopped, and glanced over his shoulder at Robbie. “Um, Robbie? I know you don’t really like to socialize that much, or at least you prefer your time alone, but would you…possibly…want to hang out some time? Get lunch or something?”  
Robbie couldn’t help but smirk. “Let me check my calendar, I’m a busy guy you know. Might have to wait a month or more, just warning you.”  
Sportacus laughed. “Fine with me, as long as we can have lunch sometime! Have a good day, Robbie.” He said warmly.  
Robbie looked up and, with an uncharacteristically soft look, mumbled, “You too, Sportacus.”  
Sportacus straddled his broom, kicked his heels, and jetted back up into the sky with his familiar in tow.

Robbie watched as the witch disappeared into the stream of rainwater and clouds, before turning around and closing the door behind him. He slunk down onto the floor, leaning against his door. He covered his face with his hands. He was really doing this, wasn’t he? This was actually happening. He was going to try and _befriend_ the witch. And that warm feeling he now acknowledged as a… _crush_ still bubbled in his chest. He groaned. It was all sinking in too well. He was very much in trouble, and that trouble had Sportacus’s name written all over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is super long? Sorry about that, though I bet now you guys see why I split the chapter into this one and the last one. I guess I got a little carried away XD
> 
> The next update might be a while since this chapter ended up being so long. Hope you guys enjoyed this one! Not sure how I feel about it, but as long as you guys enjoy it I'm happy!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. The Dust of Daily Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chronological progression of a day in LazyTown.

_6 am_

Circe awoke as she felt the bed shift underneath her. Blinking, she yawned, and peered out the window. The sky, still filled with rain clouds, was an oppressively expansive field of gray. The monochrome coloration was only broken by the sliver of pale orange that cut through the horizon, the only indication that the sun existed in the currently bleary and waterlogged town. The rain had already gotten a head start on the day, pouring down onto the street and striking against the window with rapid taps and sputters. Lazily, Circe looked over to the side, seeing Sportacus pick up his broom and throw a messenger back over his shoulder.

He turned back towards the bed, giving a small smile as he noticed his familiar was awake. Creeping over, he gently petted the top of her head, ever so carefully running the tips of his fingers down her back. Circe, unable to help herself, uttered a quiet and steady purr, closing her eyes halfway.  
“Why don’t you stay inside today? You still need to rest up and let your injuries heal.” Sportacus suggested.  
Circe only gave a tired nod as the petting continued.  
Sportacus gave her head one last pat before getting up and heading out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Circe curled back up into a tight ball, exercising caution around her still tender wounds and the bandages that covered them. She glanced one last time out the window, seeing her witch take off once more into the deluge of rain, decked in his raincoat and scarf. Seeing him disappear into the gray-toned sky, Circe closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep once more.

\--

_10 am_

The sound of fluttering wings and a few spare feathers floating past his face interrupted Robbie’s then peaceful breakfast. He looked up grumpily from his cornflakes towards the rafters, where his lovely “houseguest” perched himself, preening at his crooked and slightly torn feathers. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying to distract himself with his breakfast. He glanced up a few more times at the ceiling, watching the crow hop along the wooden beams towards him. The bird cocked his head curiously at Robbie, peering greedily at the small bowl that Robbie had next to him, covered with a small piece of fabric.  
Robbie’s eyes followed the bird’s gaze, and he sighed.  
“Guess I can’t keep what’s under that a secret much longer, huh? You animals have those heightened senses and all.” He noted.  
Hannin crowed in affirmation.  
“Right. Well, before you get the yummy snack underneath the cloth, we have to settle a deal first.” Robbie said, lowering his eyes at the bird. “Listen, Hannin, you know as well as I do that I’ve switched stances on the whole ‘be friends with Sportawitch’ thing, so the hostility has to be toned down a few notches. I also know that you’re the one who provoked his familiar and ended up nearly killing her with your little posse.”  
Hannin squawked and tried to swoop towards the covered bowl, only to earn a slight burn across his left wing from Robbie’s magic shield.  
“See, if you’d listen, that wouldn’t happen.” Robbie said matter-of-factly. “Here’s the deal, bird. I’ll be nice to you from now on. I’ll give you your own food, and I won’t attack you with spells or throw things at you as much. IF, and only if, you knock off harassing Sportaloon and his cat from now on. Especially his cat. If I hear so much as a peep about you scratching or biting his familiar, this free meal ticket is gone, got it? I’m not letting something as pesky as _you_ go and mess this up for me. If I’m going to accept and deal with this…feeling of mine, I’m going to give it my best shot. Do you got all that, bird?”  
Hannin looked Robbie in the eyes, its head twitching from side to side.  
Robbie sighed and uncovered the dish. “I’ll just assume that means yes.”  
As soon as the seeds were in view, Hannin cawed and swooped down, perching its feet on the side of the Pyrex bowl. Of course, the bowl was significantly smaller than the avian, with his landing resulting in the bowl spilling its contents all over the counter. Not bothered by this fact, Hannin went to work pecking open the sunflower seed shells and gobbling up the meat inside.

Robbie groaned and reached over. “I said you could have these, NOT spill them all over the counter.” He grumbled.  
But as his hand drew closer to the seed pile, Hannin leaned over and sharply pecked at the top of Robbie’s hand. Robbie uttered a noise of pain and recoiled, clutching his wounded hand with his other. He looked down at it, seeing a small drop of blood coagulate over the wound. He glared at the bird, who looked at him hautily.  
  
“Smart bird. From now on, our deal includes not attacking Sportacus, his cat, or _me_.” Robbie said grumpily, as he watched his begrudgingly acquired houseguest chomp down its meal.

\--

_10 am_

“Okay Uncle, I’m going to head out and play now!” Stephanie said, zipping up her pink raincoat.

“Oh, are you? Are you sure? It’s still raining awfully hard outside!” Mayor Meanswell’s voice echoed from around the corner.  
Stephanie smiled. “I’ve got a raincoat, Uncle! Also, I’m heading to play at Stingy’s house, so we’ll be inside all day!”  
“Oh! Well, that should be fine! B-But, before you go, I need your opinion on something!” he said.  
Stephanie’s eyes widened. “Really? On what?”

As soon as her uncle stepped around the corner, Stephanie immediately knew what her opinion was needed on. Mayor Meanswell stepped into his living room decked in a checkered, brown suitcoat that covered a pale green button up, with matching checkered pants. While his dress shoes looked appropriately dapper, being simple black ones, Stephanie’s attention was mostly drawn to the hideously kitsch tie that Mayor Meanswell wore. She didn’t even know people legitimately _made_ trout shaped ties.  
Mayor Meanswell beamed confidently. “Well, what do you think? It’s my outfit for my date with Ms. Busybody tonight?”  
Stephanie bit her tongue. She carefully mulled over how to nicely state that her uncle’s outfit was blinding and possibly broke every fashion rule in the book. She laughed weakly and gestured towards the tie. “Well…it looks good. Though, I don’t think the tie is a good idea.”  
Mayor Meanswell looked at her with surprise. “Oh! You think so?”  
“I do. She might find it a bit,” she said, a cheeky grin crossing her face. “ _fishy_.”  
The Mayor laughed. “Fair enough! Oh, but if I switch out this tie, I’ll have to find a whole new ensemble!”  
“It’ll be worth the effort!” Stephanie said, perhaps a bit more forcefully than she intended. She cleared her throat and smiled. “Besides, this is for Ms. Busybody! And you want to look your best for her, right?”

“Oh my! You are very right! Well, I’ll go make up a new outfit! Perhaps one less inspired by my fishing adventures.” He said with a laugh.  
“Do you need my opinion on the next outfit?” asked Stephanie.  
“No, I think I’ll be okay this time! You go out and play. I’ll see you later on tonight!” said the Mayor cheerily.  
“Okay! Good luck Uncle! You’re going to do great!” said Stephanie happily, as she turned and ran out the door.

\--

_11 am_

Sportacus waved to Kaya and Evie as he flew up on his broomstick. As the shop disappeared from view, he glanced down to the second delivery tied around the handle. Hot steam rose from the elegantly decorated, yellow casserole dish. He smiled; he figured Neil would like this treat. Everyone knew that Mrs. Sæti’s green bean casseroles were the best in LazyTown, if not the entire world. She had said this was a trade for some of Neil’s famous sweet rolls, thus Sportacus gave his broom a light kick with his heel. Prompt delivery was key to making sure their deal stuck and was as equal as possible. Neil would most likely be less than pleased about receiving a lukewarm, partly soaked casserole in exchange for his delicious, fresh from the oven sweet rolls.

Sportacus pulled his hood tighter around his head and shivered. The rain today felt colder than usual, and the wind had started to pick up, producing a whistling sound past his ears. He burrowed his nose and mouth into his purple scarf, feeling the charms slowly warm his face with soft hums and electric-like buzzing. A small reprieve from the onslaught of cold, miserable weather, but a welcome one nonetheless. He sighed and closed his eyes momentarily, feeling a wave of fatigue sweep over him. Odd, the day had just barely started, and he was already feeling a little tired. He shook his head and gently slapped his cheeks; probably just a fleeting bit of tiredness. He knew that humans dealt with seasonal depression as well as weariness if not exposed to enough sun; he figured there was a chance he could suffer from it too.

Wiping some of the rain off his brow, Sportacus slid his goggles over his eyes and pressed onward, directing his broom towards the brightly lit shop windows below.

\--

_1 pm_

She wasn’t sure if she could do this.

Trixie stood a few feet away from the front porch. _Her_ front porch. She stuffed her hands further into her coat’s pockets. Her knuckles brushed against the smooth and textured surface of the envelope, which grew increasingly more crumpled and wrinkled the longer it sat in her pockets. She sucked in a sharp breath and blew it out audibly. She could feel her cheeks burn the longer she stared at the door. What if she showed up? What if, as she was putting the envelope in the mailbox, she opened the door and spotted her? If that did happen, what would she say? Or, even more importantly, how would she react once she’d actually read the letter? That is, if she even read it in the first place.

She tried to reassure herself, remind herself about what she knew Stephanie was like as water pooled inside her galoshes. Stephanie was sweet, kind, and overall understanding. The most logical worst-case scenario would be that she’d gently decline for whatever reason she had but perhaps would reschedule and meet with her another day. Trixie couldn’t stop a small smile from crossing her face as she thought of hanging with her at the bakery. Perhaps, if she was feeling especially daring, they could share a hot chocolate. With two straws! Oh, how wonderful that would be. Trixie sighed happily as her thoughts became consumed by the imaginary play-by-play, until a crack of thunder shook her from her daydreaming. Shaking her head, Trixie put on a determined face and strode towards the mailbox, the letter clenched tightly in her hand. She pulled open the metal mailbox, seeing the many letters inside. She yanked out the slightly crumpled letter and had shoved it halfway inside…

…when she stopped.

Doubt, the ever-destructive presence, presented itself in her thoughts. Her determination faltered. What if, just potentially, Stephanie didn’t react in such a sweet and kind manner. Trixie’s smile faded. Would it be possible that Stephanie would still be angry over the whipped cream pie incident? Trixie supposed so, after all _she_ was still thinking about it. Logically then, Stephanie could be thinking about it still too. She could still be angry over the idea. Still think that Trixie is nothing more than a mean bully. And what treatment should mean bullies get in return? To Trixie, definitely not kindness and understanding. Trixie shuddered, retracting the letter back away from the mailbox. The thinking grew more serious. What if she was rejected and everyone found out? Everyone would know that Trixie had a crush on the mayor’s niece. She’d be known as that girl who likes other girls.  
Her father’s words flooded her mind: “ _I mean, what do you think your peers at school will think? This isn’t something light, this is serious._ ”  
What _would_ they think? Trixie knew that when her father used that tone, it meant something dire. Something irreversible. The implication of losing friends hung in the air. Disgust, ridicule, ostracization.  
Trixie shook her head.  
No, she couldn’t do this. She defeatedly stuffed the letter back in her pocket. Closing the mailbox, Trixie turned and ran away from Stephanie’s house, barely noticing that she bumped into Robbie as her eyes watered with tears.

\--

_1 pm_

The rain had turned from calming to oppressive by this point for Robbie. The constant wetness and crashing thunder had drained him significantly, making him feel blasé and weary. Of course, this was only a compounding part of many other draining elements, most of which concerned a certain blue-clad witch, but nonetheless they were unhelpful. With how endless the rain seemed to be, Robbie feared he may never have a moment of peace again.  
Then, he got the latest weather report. Supposedly, the rain was going to abide by that night, at least temporarily. Robbie knew better than to put all his trust in weather forecasts, but given how long he’s cooped himself up in his house with only a noisy and pesky crow for company he was willing to take the leap of faith. He needed to get out for a while. He needed to get to his thinking spot, and unfortunately it was only accessible during better weather days.

So, he leapt at the opportunity, making his way towards the grocery store for some of the necessary supplies. Nothing too crazy, just small things he liked to take with him to help coax along the thinking process. Small things he’d just recently run out of, so he grabbed his raincoat and braved the rain as he headed towards the store. He glared at the dark rainclouds.  
“ _I swear, you’d better let up on this rain, or I’ll…_ ” he thought angrily, before realizing he had nothing to threaten the clouds with, so he left the thought unfinished. He shook his head, looking forward once more. The glow from the shop windows illuminated the sidewalk, lighting up shallow puddles and the glistening cement. Robbie sniffed and stuffed his hands further into his pockets.

As he walked forward, he was nearly sent tumbling to the ground as a small figure in red zipped past him, the faint sounds of sniffling audible to him. He spun around and frowned, scrunching his brow at the tiny person in the red raincoat. He quirked an eyebrow as he noticed the end of a black pigtail. Didn’t he know that girl?

He shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t care enough to ruminate on the subject of mysterious kids in raincoats, so he strode towards his destination once more. He only paused once more on his journey to glance up as the town’s witch floated by casually, giving him an awkward wave as he walked onwards.

\--

_3 pm_

“Here you go, mam! Have a good day and stay out of the rain if you can!”

The customer gave Evie a friendly wave as she exited the store with her purchase. Evie smiled as her latest patron went out the door, the bells above jingling lightly as she did. Evie sighed contently and settled back in her chair, watching the rain fall outside. She bit her lip as she remembered her son heading out to play that morning. True, Pixel wasn’t much of an outdoorsy kid, so she wouldn’t have to worry about him arriving home covered in mud from deliberately leaping into mud puddles. Still, even if he was careful, the kid was going to be a soaked mess when he got home. Evie shook her head. She was already dreading the tracked mud she’d have to mop up later.

She adjusted the strap of her shirt as she heard the door bells jingle once more. She looked up, being startled by the appearance of a scraggly looking man in mud-covered overalls and worn rainboots. The man removed his tattered hat, revealing a mop of choppy black hair and a ratty beard. He looked up at the woman with tired eyes and gave her a small nod, before immediately heading towards the stationery stands, peering at the plainer selections. Evie gave the man a smile, though internally she fretted over the tracked mud he brought in all over the carpets. Carefully, she made her way around the counter, smiling politely as she clasped her hands together.  
“Hello sir! Is there anything I can help you find today?” she said sweetly.  
The man looked up, having just picked up a box of blue stationery. “Nah, I’ve got it. Thanks anyways.” He said. He squinted his eyes at the woman. “Have we met before? You seem familiar.”  
Evie stuck out her hand. “Well, we may have, but reintroductions aren’t bad, are they? I’m Evie Hyperbyte. You might have met my son Pixel?”  
The man nodded and shook her head. “Oh yeah, I’ve met your kid before. The name’s Jackson Troubleby. Just call me Jack. Trixie’s my kid.”  
Evie’s eyes widened. “Oh really? How funny! She was in here not too long ago buying stationery!”  
“Oh was she.” Jackson asked flatly.  
Evie immediately felt the awkwardness. She forced her smile to continue. “Um, yes! But anyways, would you be interested in some other stationery selections?”  
“Nah, it’s okay. Just this for me right now.” Jackson said.  
“Alright! Right this way then, I’ll ring you up!” Evie said chipperly, walking back towards the counter. Turned away from her customer, she cringed as she strode towards the register, trying not to overthink Jackson’s reactions and statements. Putting back on her smile, she tapped a few buttons on the register, totaling Jackson’s purchase. Jackson, meanwhile, eyed the wedding band around her finger.

He pointed at the ring. “I see you’re married. How long?”  
Evie looked up and gave a warm smile. “Six years now.” She said.  
Jackson smiled. “Congratulations.” He looked up at the shop and chuckled. “So, stationery? This a passion project of yours, or your husband’s? Don’t hear too many people gearing to open a stationery shop nowadays.”  
Evie internally cringed, but nonetheless forced a smile. “Actually, it was my wife’s dream to open this shop. She manages the inventory and I run the register. She says I’m better with people than her, but I doubt that. She’s much more of a sweetheart than I, I think.” She said with a laugh.  
Jackson’s smile vanished in an instant. His lips formed a thin line.  
In turn, Evie’s smile faltered also. The unease and disapproval from Jackson held heavy in the air and Evie had to fight the urge to make the stationery “on the house” just to end the awkwardness of their current conversation.  
“Well, Jack, your total comes out to $7.4 – “  
“When did you know?”  
The last of Evie’s smile vanished at the sudden and abrupt question. “Pardon?” she asked as calmly as possible.  
Jackson gestured at her ring. “You know, about the whole…you know, gay thing. When did you know that was what you were into?”  
Evie crooked the corner of her mouth and nodded. “Well, I was probably ten when I first realized I was into gals more than guys. Just sort of clicked for me I guess.”  
“And your…” Jackson said, searching for the right word. “…partner?”  
“Kaya told me she knew she liked both guys and gals when she was fifteen. She actually said she found out after she was watching a TV show and couldn’t decide whether she liked the male lead or the female lead better.” Evie said with a laugh.

Jackson didn’t laugh in return. Instead, he furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. “And you really knew that this was you at that young of an age? You didn’t think perhaps this was just a phase or that eventually you’d change your mind?”  
Evie frowned. “Well, I was worried about that at one point. I worried I was faking all of this, or maybe I’d find a good guy and realize this was all a silly fluke.” A faint smile crossed her face. “But once I met Kaya, it all just clicked. Those doubts I had just didn’t seem as important any more. It just felt very…right. Does that make sense, Jack?”  
Jack bit his lip. He sighed and shook his head. “Okay, well for you two it ended up being a permanent thing but what if it wasn’t?”  
Evie shrugged. “If it wasn’t, doesn’t mean that the time I thought I liked only gals was irrelevant. If you’re wondering, since I’m pretty sure it’s what you’re going to say next, it doesn’t make what I felt a lie or a fluke.” She sighed and looked Jackson in the eyes. “I believe you know that people, or anything, aren’t static. We change all the time. Who we are, what we like, what we feel is true about ourselves. It doesn’t make what we were not exist. It doesn’t mean we were lying at that time. You don’t like certain things anymore, or that certain things you believed you were aren’t you now, right? But that doesn’t mean that they weren’t important to you. That’s all that matters in the end.”  
Jackson opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, but came up with nothing. He rubbed his temple in exasperation and sighed. “But it just seems too young…”  
“There’s not really an age limit on figuring out this subject. Sometimes, you just have to trust that kids know a bit more about themselves than you might.” Evie noted. She pressed a button on the register, popping open the cash drawer. “$7.45, please.”  
Jackson dug the money out of his pocket, slapping onto the counter and keeping his eyes averted from Evie.  
Evie gave him a look. “I’d recommend you go get some books on sexuality, Jack. If what you’re confused about is what I think you’re feeling conflict about, you’ll want to do some reading before you act out anymore. Just a thought.”

Jackson nodded, shoving the stationery into his pocket. Wordlessly, he turned and walked out the store, the bells above the door jingling.  
Evie sighed and rubbed her eyes. The door behind her opened, and out walked Kaya, dressed in a flowy green dress. She looked at her wife with concern.  
“Hey sweetie, what’s wrong? You look tired.” She said soothingly.  
Evie looked up at her wife wearily. “Just the last customer. It was the dad of one of Pixel’s friends, and we apparently confuse him a bit.”  
Kaya laughed. “Oh dear, sorry you had to deal with that on your own. If I were down here, I would’ve helped you out.”  
Evie waved off her concerns. “Don’t worry, I think I might’ve chipped at him a little. Hopefully he’ll at least think about what I said. For his daughter’s sake.”  
Kaya looked out the window. She bit her lip in thought. “Man, I don’t miss being at that point in discovering yourself. Never a fun time.”  
Evie teasingly smiled and placed a light kiss on her wife’s chin. “ _But_ , it’s worth it, right? Now you can be stuck with someone like me!”  
Kaya looked at her wife, aghast. “ _Stuck_? Sweetie, I think you give yourself too little credit.” She said, giving her a kiss on the lips.  
Parting, Evie licked her lips. “Mmm, strawberries!”  
Kaya laughed and wrapped her arms around her wife’s shoulders. “I love you so much, dork.”  
Evie kissed her wife’s nose. “I love you too, nerd.”

\--

_6 pm_

“Ziggy! Dinner time! Come inside!”

Ziggy stopped on his heel and turned, seeing his mom’s silhouette in his doorway. He smiled and tromped over to the porch, his feet squishing as he stomped through puddles and mud piles. He grinned happily as he stood a foot from the door.  
Miriam shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. “Goodness, you’re a complete mess! Kick off those boots and come inside. Just try not to track any mud inside, okay?”  
“Okay mom!” Ziggy said cheerily. He threw off his rainboots and tossed them to the side. “I didn’t mean to get so muddy, but those puddles were just so big and deep and perfect, I just _had_ to jump in them!”  
Miriam couldn’t stop an affectionate smile from crossing her face. “Well, if they really were that perfect, that I can’t blame you. But, still means you’ll need a long bath tonight mister! Hop along, I made stroganoff tonight!”  
Ziggy gasped excitedly and ran into the house, rainwater dripping from his hood. His grandmother quirked an eyebrow as she watched her soaked grandson tear through the house, his mother sighing and dodging the collected water on the floor.  
“Boys his age are quite the handful, aren’t they Miriam?” asked his grandmother with a smile.  
Miriam shook her head and smiled. “You don’t know the half of it. I’ll be glad when this rainstorm’s finally over, so I don’t have to clean up mud every single day.”  
“The nice weatherman said the rain was going to let up tonight and should be done in a few days.” His grandmother noted, picking up a part of the newspaper.  
“ _Good_. Let’s hope he’s right. Then I’ll only have to worry about grass stains and popsicle residue.” Miriam responded. She strode over to the kitchen, examining the cooking stroganoff. She looked back over as she noticed her mother looking through the mail pile.

“Anything from him?” she asked quietly.  
Ziggy’s grandmother flipped through the newest letters before putting them down, shaking her head. “I’m afraid not, dear.”  
Miriam sighed, focusing her sad eyes on the steaming pot of noodles.  
“He’ll send us something soon, I’m sure of it. He wouldn’t leave you and Ziggy alone without knowing where he was or how he’s doing.” Ziggy’s grandmother said reassuringly.  
“You know as well as I do where he’s been stationed this time, mom. He wouldn’t go radio silent on purpose, but where he is? Even if he doesn’t mean it, I can’t…I can’t help…” she said, her voice wobbling.  
Ziggy’s grandmother stood up and gently pulled her daughter into a hug. “Shh, it’s okay honey. It’s okay.”  
Miriam sniffed. “I worry so much about him, mom.”  
“I bet he knows that dear. But from what I know about Stephen, he’s got a lot of luck on his side. We just have to believe that that luck is working overtime right now, and that he’s just on the busy side right now.”  
Miriam wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked at her mom with a smile. “Thanks mom.”  
“That’s what I’m here for, dear.” Ziggy’s grandmother responded with her own warm smile.

“Alright, I put away my coat!” Ziggy announced as he ran into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks as he caught a glimpse of his mother’s face. His smile vanished. “Mom, are you okay?”  
Miriam gave a sad laugh and wiped more tears from her face. “I’ll be okay, sweetie. I was just thinking about your dad.”  
“He still hasn’t written to us yet?” Ziggy asked sadly.  
Miriam shook her head. “Not yet, but he will. He’s probably just busy fighting the bad guys right now.”  
“Like a superhero?” Ziggy asked innocently.  
His grandmother smiled warmly. “Exactly. Just like one.”  
Ziggy, happily, sat at the table, watching his mom place a bowl of stroganoff at his place. She placed a light kiss on his head as he began to dig into his dinner. As she walked back to the stove, her own mother gave her one last hug.  
“It’ll be okay dear.” She said in a near whisper.  
“Thanks, mom.” She said back, before continuing to serve dinner.

\--

_9 pm_

The rain tapped lazily against Mayor Meanswell’s umbrella as he and Ms. Busybody walked down the lane, stopping as they finally arrived at Ms. Busybody’s apartment complex.

“Oh Milford, thank you for such a wonderful evening! You know, you are quite the dapper gentleman, and you have such a way with words!” gushed Ms. Busybody as she leaned closer to his shoulder, her hand still intertwined with his.  
Mayor Meanswell blushed, growing increasingly flustered. “Oh! Y-You did? Well I’m glad! A-And thank you!” he stuttered.  
Ms. Busybody smiled. “Yes, I have to say I’ve never had such a fun and…exciting evening.”  
Mayor Meanswell smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I, um, apologize again for the thing with the spaghetti. I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going.”  
“Well, I didn’t exactly plan or desire to have pasta thrown into my hair tonight, but nonetheless I’m sure I’ll laugh about it before bed tonight!” Ms. Busybody said with a chuckle. “At least the movie was wonderful.”  
“Yes, I must say I was pleasantly surprised by that film! Quite a romantic and, _*ahem*_ , steamy movie.” Mayor Meanswell said, tugging at his collar as the blush returned to his cheeks.  
Ms. Busybody waved off his awkwardness. “Oh, come now Milford, we’re both adults. We can handle a little racier scene in a movie now and then without acting and feeling like uneasy teenagers, yes?”  
“W-Well, in theory, yes.” Said Mayor Meanswell quietly.

Ms. Busybody looked at him with an affectionate smile. “You are so funny, Milford. You never fail to make me laugh.” She said, adjusting the lapels of his jacket carefully.  
“I do? I mean, I’m glad I can help?” Mayor Meanswell responded, his face now red as a tomato.  
Ms. Busybody giggled. “I had a fantastic time, Milford. Would you be up to doing this again sometime?”  
“Y-you…I mean of course! W-Wait, I mean yes! That would be nice. I would love to do this again.” Mayor Meanswell answered with a silly half-smile.  
Ms. Busybody smiled. “Next time, we can have a picnic. Perhaps once the rain stops and before your big flight. I’ll make some of my special cake, just for the two of us.” She said with a wink.  
“Oh my, that sounds marvelous Ms. Busybody!” the Mayor said excitedly.  
“You can call me Bessie, Milford. I think we’re on a first name basis, don’t you agree?”  
“R-Right! Then that sounds wonderful, B-Bessie.”  
Ms. Busybody smiled, and glanced at her apartment door. “Well, I should head in. I have an early morning tomorrow at the shop. I will see you around, then?”  
Mayor Meanswell blinked, being broken out of his daydreaming about their next date. “Oh! Yes, most definitely! I will see you soon!”  
Ms. Busybody then leaned in and planted a light kiss on the mayor’s lips. “ _Au revoir_ , Milford!” she said in a sing-song tone, before she walked into her apartment, closing the door behind her.

Mayor Meanswell didn’t respond, mostly because as soon as Ms. Busybody’s lips met his, his brain decided to short circuit. His eyes widened as he soon processed that the kiss had actually happened, and he didn’t just conveniently hallucinate what he most hoped to happen. A wide grin crossed his face, and he couldn’t stop himself from uttering a happy cheer as he skipped down the sidewalk back towards his house, his heart light and giddy from a date that couldn’t have gone any better.

\--

_9:20 pm_

The moon had already risen halfway up the sky when Sportacus had completed his last errand for the day. He yawned widely; the last errand had taken him across the town, leaving him far off from the mayor’s home and closer to the fields where the airplane hangar sat. The rain had finally ceased, allowing Sportacus to take off his hood and finally enjoy the cool night air. He closed his eyes and sighed contently as he idly floated in the air, feeling the breeze cool his skin which, oddly, felt much warmer than usual. He shivered at that moment, a full body shiver. Sportacus looked at himself with concern. Guess that was enough time spent reveling in the night air. Time to go home. Sportacus kicked his heels together and began to fly back towards the town.

That is, he did until he gazed down at the grassy field below. That’s when he spotted something. A patch of bright, unnatural purple and pink that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of blue-green and gray grass that threatened to swallow up the person, but never could given how brightly they appeared amongst the dulled, moonlight dimmed palette. A small smile crossed Sportacus’s face. He had an inkling about who that might be. Tapping the side of his broomstick, he ushered his broom to slowly circle down to the ground, landing a few feet behind the figure. Picking the broom up, Sportacus sifted his way through the tall grasses, making his way to the raven-haired man that sat so still, his gaze fixed upon a point in the horizon. So focused, apparently, that when Sportacus uttered a quiet “hey”, the man nearly leapt four feet up in the air with a yelp.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “S-Sorry Robbie! I thought you might’ve heard me!” he said worriedly.  
Robbie gathered himself, panting and trying to catch his breath. He looked at the witch and frowned. “Yeah sure, I would’ve heard you sneaking around in the grass like some sort of ninja! Can’t believe I’m saying this, but try to make a little more noise next time, huh?”  
Sportacus’s face fell. “I’m really sorry, Robbie.”  
Robbie felt a pang of guilt. He averted his eyes ashamedly and sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I know you didn’t mean to startle me. It’s okay.”  
A faint smile returned to Sportacus’s face. He peered over at the purple and pink object, now revealed to be a large blanket. “What are you up to? Kind of late at night to have a picnic.”  
Robbie shrugged. “Just needed to do some thinking, I guess. This is where I like to go to think.” He said, walking back over to his blanket. He plopped himself down in a criss-cross sitting position. He glanced back at Sportacus and gestured him over. “You can join me, if you want. You’re already here, you might as well.”  
Sportacus’s face lit up and he carefully sat down on the blanket, crossing his legs just like Robbie. He looked out at the horizon, gazing at the field of long grasses that seemed to stretch on for miles. The sea of green was only broken by a thin line of gray that trailed in a straight line across the plains, an unnatural and man-made creation that stood out against the natural order and pattern. He saw the tips of the tall oaks and elms gently sway in the slow breeze, creating a zig-zag shadow against the bases of the silvery blue mountains in the distance. Fluffy, pale white clouds floated aimlessly past the patchwork of stars in the sky, occasionally obscuring the moon’s halo.

Sportacus smiled. “I can see why you like to come out here, it’s beautiful.”  
“Yeah, and it’s quiet. Not like my house is abundant with noise or anything, but sometimes I just like to get away for a bit.” Robbie said in a tone softer than usual. A faint smile crossed his face as he gazed at the scene. “Even when things are crazy, this place always seems serene.”  
Sportacus leaned back on his hands. He took in a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He felt the breeze brush against his face, rustling his mustache and blowing the few exposed strands of blonde hair with it. The scarf around his neck whistled and chimed in tune with the gusts.  
Robbie blinked as he soon realized he was staring at the witch, watching how relaxed the man seemed. He casually cleared his throat and turned his attention back towards the horizon. Back towards what he was thinking about. Granted, it was tricky thinking and ruminating on what he wanted to think about, considering the subject of analysis was sitting right next to him, being distracting as usual.  
A lengthy silence fell between the two as both drank in the sounds of the earth, allowing their thoughts to scatter and reform as they pleased. Robbie seemed to be having less success with relaxing than Sportacus did.  
“So, how’s your cat? Circle, or whatever.” Robbie asked.  
Sportacus chuckled. “Circe, and she’s doing okay. I let her sleep in today. She needs all the rest she can get, considering how scratched up she was.”  
“ ‘Scratched up’ is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?” Robbie said with a raised eyebrow.  
Sportacus looked away and smiled uncomfortably. “Maybe, but being honest about how bad she looked doesn’t sit well with me.” He said quietly.  
Robbie felt a softness in his heart. “Man, you really care about that fur ball, don’t you? At least, beyond a whole ‘pet-owner’ thing.”  
Sportacus frowned and looked at Robbie. “I’ve never considered Circe my pet. First and foremost, she’s my friend and companion.” His gaze turned sad. “And yes, I care about her immensely. She’s my oldest friend. And after seeing her wounds…” Sportacus looked away as his voice faded, his gaze turned towards the fields of grass.  
Robbie bit his lip. “I could…I guess, understand how you feel. If you two are as close as you say you are, anyways. Seeing her that close to…well you know. That probably wasn’t easy.”  
Sportacus shook his head, and gave Robbie a sad smile. “But that’s why I’m glad you helped her. Maybe at the time you felt like you were just saving my pet, but really you saved my best friend. I can’t thank you enough for that.”  
Robbie waved off the witch’s appreciation. “Don’t start with that mushy thankfulness stuff, Sportadork. It really was no big deal.” He gave a small laugh. “I’m just wondering how you two actually gel. She doesn’t seem like someone you’d get along with, to be honest.”  
Sportacus laughed. “I could see how you’d think that. Circe can be pretty sarcastic and harsh, yes, but really, she has a soft side. She’s caring when she wants to be.” Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Um, don’t tell her I told you that.”  
Robbie gave him a look. “Like I’d rat you out to your _cat_.”  
“Thought I’d cover my bases. Thanks anyways.”  
“Sure Sportaloon, no problem.”

The two fell silent again as the wind rustled through the distant trees. The tiny silhouettes of bats flew up into the sky, creating small clouds of flying mammals that blotted out the stars temporarily. A star zipped across the sky, leaving a trail of stardust in its path. The grasses whistled their late-night song, their rustling muted yet pronounced. The sounds of cicadas punctuated the silence as well.  
Sportacus reached into his pocket. “Hey Robbie, I, um, actually brought something with me. Thought that, you know, after our rocky start, this might help us out a bit with the whole conversing thing.”  
Robbie looked at Sportacus curiously. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”  
Sportacus cringed and looked at Robbie sheepishly as he unveiled a small, orange book. “I got this book of ice-breakers and questions from the library.”  
Robbie smacked his forehead and rolled his eyes. “Oh gods, save me now.”  
“N-Now hang on! These could be fun! At the very least, it’ll help us get to know each other a bit better.”  
“You sure you don’t want to just cut my brain open? You could find out some interesting things about me that way too.”  
“Robbie!” Sportacus said in shock.  
“Sportadummy, nobody in the entire world likes ice-breakers and these Q & A styled things. They’re weird and annoying. Most people would rather try to hug a porcupine than participate in those things.” Robbie said matter-of-factly.  
Sportacus looked at him with a slight, puppy-dog like expression. “Please Robbie? Just try one? It could be fun!”  
Robbie frowned, staring straight at the pleading witch. He really did hate icebreakers, but at the same time he had decided to try befriending the witch and, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, icebreakers would at least let him see if they agreed on anything. He sighed and gave a single nod. “Fine, but only a few.”  
  
Sportacus smiled and cracked open the book, scanning through the pages. He sniffled as he pointed out his first question. “Alright, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?”  
“A whole box of nails. I ate them with a side of honey mustard.” Robbie answered with a smirk.  
“Robbie!”  
“What? I said I’d answer the questions, not that I’d answer them _honestly_.” Robbie said with a shrug.  
“Come on, Robbie…”  
Robbie rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_. One time, when I was running out of food, I made a sardine, habanero, and string cheese sandwich.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Was it any good?”  
“Gods no. It was putrid. Still, it filled my stomach and that’s what mattered.” Robbie answered. He pulled the book from Sportacus’s hands and flipped past a few pages. He settled on a question further back in the book. “Here we go, tell me about a weird quirk of yours. Nothing too weird though. I don’t want to know anything about your weird, witch biology.”  
“Not like I’d mention something like that now anyways.” Sportacus said with a laugh. He looked up thoughtfully. “Well, I sometimes eat flowers.”  
“What.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus blushed embarrassedly and gave a half-smile. “Mostly when I’m feeling anxious or stressed. They’re kind of comfort food for me. If you’re curious, daisies and violets are my favorite.”  
“No, Sportacow, I wasn’t going to ask. I think I’m still processing the whole, ‘you eat flowers’ thing.” He quirked an eyebrow at the hero. “So, can you eat _all_ flowers, or only some?”  
“Not all. One time I ate a nightshade flower. Didn’t feel too good after that.”  
Robbie looked at Sportacus in disbelief. “And you’re still _alive_ after that?!”  
Sportacus laughed. “What can I say, guess I was lucky? Not like I’d go eat more of them after that. It did a serious number on my stomach.”  
“Yeah, no kidding! Geez Sportakook, maybe you should invest in a botany book or something before you go eating random flowers. Guess I got one thing right about witches, you all don’t have much common sense.” Robbie said, handing the book back to Sportacus.  
“I have plenty of common sense. I just didn’t look before I picked and ate.” Sportacus explained. He peered at the next question. “Morning or night person?”  
“Night, obviously. And you’re a morning person.”  
“Correct. Guess that one was too easy.”  
“Far too easy.” Said Robbie, glancing at the book. “Any pet peeves, Sportawitch?”  
Sportacus drummed his fingers against the ground. “Hmm, that’s a tough one.” He scrunched his nose. “Oh wait, definitely don’t like when people chew with their mouths open.”  
“That gets you too??”  
Sportacus nodded. “Yeah, I mean I can ignore it usually, but sometimes it gets a bit annoying.”  
“I can’t even ignore it. I sometimes leave the room if it gets bad enough.” Robbie said with a laugh.  
“Well, at least we’ve got that in common then. It’s a start.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
“Yes, we both hate people with bad eating habits. Such a nice thing to have in common.” Robbie said with slight sarcasm.  
“I didn’t say I hate those people!”  
“But you do hate the habit?”  
“…maybe?”  
“See? You’re way too nice, Sportaloon.” Robbie said with a smirk. “Come on, just ask me the next question. Make it an interesting one.”

“Let’s see, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?” Sportacus asked.  
Robbie’s smirk vanished. One place instantly popped into his mind. He looked out at the horizon, a more solemn look now on his face.  
“Robbie?” asked Sportacus in a concerned tone. He looked at him worriedly. “Is everything okay? We can stop playing if you want.”  
“Home.” Robbie finally said. He looked at the witch, forcing a half-smile. “That’s where I’d go.”  
A surprised and sad look appeared on Sportacus’s face. “You can’t go home?”  
“I mean, I could. But,” Robbie said, shaking his head. “it’s not the same. It’s not the same place it was when I was a kid. It will never be the same place.” He said, his voice growing quiet.  
Sportacus looked down at his hands, which were clenching at the grass by their blanket. He gave a single, slow nod. “I think I get what you mean. I’d have said home as well.”  
Robbie looked at the witch. “You can’t go home either?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “No. No, I can’t. Even if I could, I don’t know if I’d want to go back.” He gave a sad smile. “I guess I’d want to go home, but to the home I remember when I was little. Before I grew up and…well, it changed. Maybe not physically, but what it means and how it feels. That’s all very different. It can’t go back to how it used to be.” He looked at Robbie. “Does that make any sense?”  
Robbie gave a sad chuckle. “You stole the words right out of my mouth, you thief. Though, mine _has_ changed physically. There’s just not much point going back now.”  
Sportacus shuffled an inch closer as both men looked out at the distant forest, their thoughts now turned towards their homes. The cool breeze blew some of Robbie’s hair out of his pristine pompadour. Sportacus took in a breath as he tried to fight some sad feelings.  
“Do you ever miss it?” asked Sportacus quietly.  
Robbie nodded. “More than I’d like to admit.”  
“Me too.” Answered Sportacus.

Silence once more.

“I…I remember, for some reason, my mom putting out her laundry. It smelled a lot like lavender and honeysuckle. And I remember the distant sound of a train. That’s the first thing I think about when I think of home.” Robbie noted.  
“Is that why you’re thinking spot is near the train tracks?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie paused. “You know, never realized that, but maybe. Subconsciously, probably.” He gave a small smile. “So, since we’re on the depressing subject, what makes you think of home?”  
Sportacus laughed. “Well, let’s see…” he said thoughtfully. A flicker of a memory crossed his face, and his wide smile lowered slightly. “My town was near a pine forest, so it smelled like evergreens all the time. I never really thought about it until I left. Now the smell of pine needles makes me think of home.”  
“How long has it been since you left?”  
“Years. I was, what, nine when I left?” Sportacus answered.  
“Huh. Funny, I was a little younger than that when I…left.” Robbie said.  
The two turned towards the forest again.  
“Can I ask why you left?” said Sportacus.  
Robbie’s body stiffened. “Heh, what would that Poodles kid say? You haven’t gotten a high enough friendship level to hear that story yet.”  
“Right, yeah probably shouldn’t have asked. Just started hanging out, _way_ too personal of a question right now. Sorry, I imagine that’s not a fun topic for you.” Said Sportacus uneasily.  
A sad look crossed Robbie’s eyes. “No, it’s really not. It’s okay, just maybe we can talk about that later.” He shrugged. “In return, I won’t ask why you left either.”  
“Thank you.” Sportacus said with a small smile.

The wind began to pick up, whistling through the tree branches and grasses. Sportacus, in turn, began to furiously shiver. He rubbed his arms, trying to stay the shaking to no avail. Robbie, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow at the witch.  
“Are you cold?” he asked.  
Sportacus shook his head. “N-No, I’m perfectly – “he said, before being interrupted by a violent sneeze. He sniffled, and looked at Robbie sheepishly. “– fine.”  
“With all your magic and powers, you couldn’t stop yourself from catching a cold?? What, did you go flying without proper rain gear? Or rain protection?”  
“Yes?’ replied Sportacus.  
“Why?!” Robbie exclaimed.  
“Because someone told me that using shield magic while flying was showboating.” Sportacus said with a weakly sly smile, his cheeks turning a slight pink.  
Robbie’s cheeks mirrored Sportacus and he rolled his eyes with a groan. “I swear, everyone thinks you’re the nicest person, but really you just _love_ making a point, don’t you? Wait there, I’ve got something for you.” He said, rummaging through his bag. He pulled out a tall thermos, purple and made of metal. Uncapping the top, he poured a generous serving of something steaming and pale brown. He handed the cup to Sportacus. “Here, drink this.”  
Sportacus nodded his thanks and took a sip of the liquid. His eyes grew wide at the taste. “This is so good! What is it?”  
“Just some milk, honey, and cinnamon. Nothing difficult. Small way to make it up to you, seeing as tangentially I got you sick.” Robbie said with a frown. “You didn’t have to take what I said seriously you know. You must’ve known you’d get sick flying without a rain shield. So, why do it?”  
“You know more about LazyTown than I do. I figured what you said would be a good idea to follow. Don’t want to give the wrong impression after all.” Sportacus said, taking another sip of the liquid. He smiled warmly. “Besides, I appreciate your opinion and wanted to respect it.”  
Robbie’s blush darkened and he looked away. “Moron. Use your shield magic if you need to.”  
Sportacus chuckled. “Okay, loon, I will.”  
“You’re not going to give up on that, are you?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “Nope. Not until you concede that you’re the bigger loon.”  
“Well I’m not going to do that, so don’t get your hopes up.” Robbie said with a smirk.  
“Then we’re at an impasse. I guess we’re both loons then. Biggest loon is based on opinion.” Sportacus said.  
“How delightfully boring of you, Sportadork.” Mumbled Robbie.  
Sportacus snickered, then broke into a laugh. Robbie couldn’t stop the smile that broke onto his face, and soon he was laughing too. Why, he didn’t know, but he supposed he just felt comfortable, and Sportacus’s laugh was annoyingly infectious.

Their laughing fit was broken by a cough from Sportacus.  
“You should probably go inside, Sportaloon. I mean, unless you want to become a popsicle.” Robbie suggested.  
“You’re probably right. But, I also don’t want to head back yet. This is nice. Not ready for it to be over yet.” Sportacus said softly, cradling the cup in his hands.  
Robbie bit his lip, going back and forth on an idea. He sighed, and rummaged through his bag again. He tossed another thick, fluffy blanket on top of Sportacus. The witch pulled it off his head, nearly pulling off his cap and goggles in the process, and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.  
“Thanks, Robbie.” He said with a smile, a faint pink color on his cheeks and nose.  
“I only did that because I know I can’t convince you to head back. You know that, right?” Robbie said defensively.  
“Okay, Robbie. I believe you.” Sportacus said with a knowing smile.  
Robbie cleared his throat and looked away, up at the stars. Sportacus snuggled deeper into the blanket, nuzzling the soft fabric, feeling it warm his face and forearms. Robbie fought to not catch a peek at the cozy witch.

The two stayed out for some time, listening to the sounds of owls crying in the distance, and the occasional rumbling of a train as it passed by the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter: That last chapter was super long! I should make this next one on the shorter side so this story doesn't get too long-winded!
> 
> *proceeds to write near 8,000 words*
> 
> ...well darn.
> 
> Might rewrite the stuff concerning Evie and Jackson. Sorry if it's not that good, I was struggling with that part. I also thought this chapter would be more chill, but dang it got a little much. Sorry, next chapter will definitely be more fluffy and light, though still fun hopefully!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	9. Blómstra

Indeed, like Ms. Busybody figured, the LazyTown rainstorm went down in their record books as one of the longest storms they’d ever experienced. After almost two weeks straight of heavy rainfall, the weather finally subsided and the clouds parted, allowing the streams of bright sunlight to light up the town once more. Deep puddles dotted the fields and roadways, their waters speckled with the sun’s reflections. Dirt roads remained muddy and untrekked, lest someone wanted to lose their shoes in the mucky depths. Water dripped off leaves and tree branches, the air smelling thick with grass, rainwater, worms, and dirt, the scent intensified as the days grew warm once more. It was like the earth had taken an extended shower, and the darker gray clouds were the towels still ringing out some leftover water with the occasional spurt of showers or sprinkling.

As the sun shone, doors swung open and the children bounded out into the streets, their shrieks and giggles indicative of their joy over the bettering weather. Trixie took to the streets on her skateboard, missing the absence of her father’s shouts and chore reminders. Clutching his lollipop, Ziggy ran out with his bicycle, throwing a leg over the frame and hopping onto the seat, coasting down the soggy sidewalk. Stingy finished up brushing the coat of his handsome, palomino stallion Duke before grabbing his coat and jumping into his tiny pedal car, carefully avoiding the puddles and patches of mud. Pixel waved to his mothers before tucking his remote-control helicopter under his arm and making a beeline towards the park. Stephanie pocketed a jump rope and portable radio before running outside. The town itself seemed almost to come alive in the bright, warm sunshine.

Sportacus pushed his window open and took a deep breath of the clean, fresh air. He grinned happily, looking back excitedly at his familiar, who looked at him grumpily in return.  
“Can you close that thing? You’re letting all the warm air out.” She mumbled sleepily, tucking her head back towards her hind legs.  
“But Circe, the rain finally stopped! Don’t you want to go outside and enjoy the sunshine?” he asked.  
“All I want is to sleep, you know that. Besides, I’m still hurt. I need to heal.” She muttered.  
“I think we’re at the point where getting fresh air is _better_ for you than staying inside.” Sportacus said, shaking his head. He grinned. “Well, if you’re not going outside, then I am!” he said, running towards his table, and grabbing his scarf.  
Circe cocked an eye open at the witch. “Aren’t you still sick?”  
Sportacus shrugged. “A little, but I feel a ton better!”  
“Yet you’re still wearing the scarf?” Circe said, pointing her tail towards the witch’s accessory.  
Sportacus froze, then gave a shaky smile. “It goes well with my outfit and it keeps my neck warm? Don’t have to just wear it when I’m sick.”  
“Alright, whatever. Go enjoy that sunshine and just remember to get me for lunch.” Circe said with an eyeroll, before snuggling into the comforter.  
Sportacus laughed and gently closed the door behind him. Grabbing his broom, he ran out into the yard. Straddling it, he kicked his heels and flew back up into the sky, waving to the children playing down below him.

The kids, meanwhile, gathered in the park to play. Ziggy, Stingy, and Trixie congregated near some bushes, gawking and admiring the various pranks that the two boys had bought with their allowance money. Stephanie and Pixel drew out a hopscotch grid on the drier squares of sidewalk. The two played a few games before Stephanie stopped, stopping mid-way through another line of hops.  
“What’s up, Stephanie?” asked Pixel.  
Stephanie thought a moment, before gasping. “I just remembered! We need to check on the school garden! With all this rain we had, we have to make sure the plants are okay!”  
Pixel’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh! I forgot about the garden! Quick let’s get the other kids and check on them!” he said, taking off and running towards a distant group of kids playing with Frisbees.  
“So, you’re sure this rocket will hold an egg payload?” asked Trixie.  
Stingy nodded with a mischievous giggle. “Oh, most certainly! It’s the whole reason I bought it!”  
Ziggy bounced on his heels. “Oh boy! Can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when eggs come raining down from the skies!”  
Trixie shushed the boy. “Not so loud! Do you want every Sid and Nancy knowing about our next big prank? We have to be somewhat discrete, or else someone might hear us – “  
“Hey guys!” said Stephanie cheerily.  
All three turned in surprise towards the excitable pink girl, with Trixie instantly turning a matching shade of pink at the sight. Almost unconsciously, she stuffed her hand into the pocket that still held the crumpled letter.  
“Oh, hey Stephanie!” replied Ziggy cheerily.  
“Hi Stephanie!” Stingy said.  
“H-Hey.” Trixie finally said.  
“Hey, we need to check on the school garden! With all this rain, we have to make sure nothing got flooded!”  
Ziggy jumped to his feet. “Oh man, you’re right! Come on guys, let’s hurry! W-What if the green beans I planted drowned?”  
“Plants don’t drown, Ziggy.” Said Stingy with an eyeroll. He paused. “But, then again, what about the poor tomatoes that _I_ planted??” He gasped. “Guys, don’t waste another minute! We have _got_ to save those plants!” he said, tearing off towards the schoolyard.  
The other kids chuckled and shook their heads before following behind him, Trixie keeping a distance behind Stephanie as they ran.

The children’s worst fears were confirmed as soon as they walked through the small, wooden gate that separated the elementary school garden from the rest of the schoolyard. The carefully maintained soil had been turned into a soupy mess from the incessant rainfall, with pools of stagnant rainwater dotting the plant beds and pots. Most of the mature plants looked wilted and yellowed, their leaves tumbling to the ground in sad heaps. All those signs pointed towards overwatering. The less lucky seeds and sprouts had been swept from their spots by the rain, being left in sad piles on the gravel ground, their own colors leaning towards sickly yellows and browns as well. Stingy sadly gazed upon the remaining tomato plants, examining the spotted and yellowed leaves. Stephanie and the others looked devastated as they sifted through the displaced and sickened plants, looking for anything that might be salvageable.  
“Unbelievable…that rain absolutely _decimated_ our crop! All these plants are started to rot!” Pixel stated, picking up the limp stalk of a corn plant. He shook his head and looked sadly at his friends. “I don’t think any of these plants could be saved!”  
Ziggy’s lip quivered as he looked tearfully at his drowned squash plants. He looked up at Stephanie. “You mean…we won’t get to see our garden filled with sportscandy?”  
Stephanie bit her lip. She gazed at the ruined garden, furrowing her brow in thought. “I mean, we could plant new plants if we hurry. But there’s so many, and many are past the window to plant them. I just don’t know if it’s possible…”

The sound of dirt being moved behind her caught Stephanie’s attention. Both Stephanie and Ziggy spun around to see Trixie started to dig into the moist earth, scooping away soggy piles of dirt.  
“Trixie? What are you doing?” asked Stephanie.  
Trixie stopped mid-dig and looked at the pink girl. “What else could I be doing, Pinky? You said we could plant some new stuff, so we will!”  
“But Trixie, half of the plants are past the time to plant them! If we plant them now, they won’t be grown enough to harvest in the fall!” Stephanie said.  
Trixie frowned. “Pinky, do you care about this garden?”  
“Of course I do.”   
“Do you love this garden?”   
“Yes? Is that a question?”  
Trixie nodded. “Then, we’ll fix it. Might take a few days, but we’ll do it. Let’s get the guys to go grab some shovels and other tools. If we all work together, we can make good progress today and, hopefully, have everything growing again and ready by fall!” she said determinedly.  
The other children cheered and made haste towards the gardening shed.  Stephanie blinked and looked in surprise at the farmer girl. She’s never seen such…raw passion from her classmate. Admittedly, her interactions with Trixie were always a little stilted. The other girl seemed always so…up tight when talking to her. Stephanie had always shrugged off her interactions due to nerves or just her stricter upbringing. She figured growing up on a farm would be difficult; perhaps this was a side-effect of having so many chores each day? Yet here, Stephanie witnessed more from Trixie than she ever had before. Stephanie paused. Why did Trixie ask only _her_ if she liked the garden? Doesn’t everyone like the garden? She considered the question strange. Why did she only consider _her_ wishes?  
Stephanie shook her head. She was probably overthinking this. She ran off to the join the others in gathering the gardening supplies.

An hour or so later, Sportacus floated by on his broom. He glanced down at the ground, raising an eyebrow at the gaggle of children working hard in the dirt and mud. He spiraled down, landing with a clatter of gravel and dirt. He smiled as he looked upon the children’s work, his eyes widening at the large pile of black trash bags lined near the gate.  
“Hey guys! What’s going on?” he asked.  
Ziggy stopped, and a wide grin formed on his face. “We’re fixing the garden! It got flooded by all the rain, and we thought maybe we can’t save it, but we’re going to try anyways!” he said enthusiastically.  
Sportacus nodded, looking over the multitudes of children carrying large bags of potting soil and fertilizer, packets of seeds, and various gardening tools towards the plant beds. Three of the other kids worked on digging a hole for a new apple tree sapling. Stingy burrowed labels by each row of seeds and saplings. Pixel and Stephanie worked on fixing the watering system, setting it to start watering in a few days. One little girl teetered close to Sportacus, carrying an imposingly gigantic bag of soil. With a cry, she made one misstep, threatening to go toppling onto the gravel. Sportacus instantly sprung into action, tossing his broom to the side, and catching her and the bag of soil right before she made contact with the ground.  
“Woah! Thanks so much, Sportacus!” she said in relief.  
Sportacus chuckled. “You’re welcome! But be a bit more careful next time, these bags are super heavy!” He helped the girl to her feet and hoisted the bag over his shoulder. “Would you guys like some help? Some of this stuff is pretty big, and I could probably lift it easily!”  
“Sure! Thanks, Sportacus!” Stephanie said with a smile.  
Sportacus took some of the bigger bags of fertilizer and soil from the kids, piling them onto his shoulders. He was about to take one precariously spilling bag from Trixie, but she pulled away at the last minute.  
“I’ve got this! I work on a farm, I’m not weak!” Trixie said defensively, her eyes darting momentarily to Stephanie.  
Sportacus raised his hands and laughed. “Okay! If you’ve got it, you got it.”  
Trixie hmph’d and walked away. Sportacus, for a moment, wondered if Trixie hung out with Robbie at all.

Up until lunchtime, Sportacus and the children worked continuously, fixing up the muddy plant beds and pots. One team of kids hauled large trash bags filled with mud and dead plants onto their wagons, tugging them away towards the dumpsters behind the school. The other team was divided into even smaller groups, each responsible for tasks varying from spreading fertilizer, to planting the seeds, to moving saplings to their new homes. Sportacus, all the while, juggled bringing new bags of soil and fertilizer with helping the children dig the deeper holes.  
At lunchtime, the gardening team stopped for their lunchbreak. Most of the kids ran home, heeding the calls of their parents for meals of grilled sandwiches, soups, macaroni and cheese, and other meals that children adore. A few others chose instead to hang near the garden, munching on the lunches they brought from home. Sportacus sat between Stephanie and Pixel as he took a bite of his apple, glancing over his muddy uniform. He sighed; he really needed to get more than just his one outfit at some point.  
As he took another bite, he looked up as he heard footsteps approaching. He could feel himself perk up as the familiar, purple-clad man walked down the sidewalk, his hands buried into his pockets. He leapt to his feet as the children looked at him in confusion.  
“Sportacus? Where are you going?” asked Stephanie.   
“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to talk to Ro-Mr. Rotten really quick.” He said with a smile.  
Stingy looked at him with widened eyes. “Mr. Rotten? Why??”  
Sportacus stopped. “Because he’s my friend?”  
The children looked at him, aghast.  
“ _You’re_ friends with grumpy Mr. Rotten??” Pixel asked.  
Sportacus nodded. “I believe so! I think of him as my friend, at least.”  
“How? He’s, like, the grumpiest, meanest guy in LazyTown!” Trixie protested.  
Sportacus frowned. “Now come on guys, Mr. Rotten isn’t all bad. He’s really a nice guy if you get to know him. A very thoughtful person too.” He said, averting his eyes at his last statement.  
Stephanie crossed her arms and looked behind Sportacus at the lanky man. “I’m just shocked he talked to you long enough for you to get to know him.”  
Sportacus sighed. “Please guys, just believe me. He really is a nice person. In fact, I’m going to ask him to help us fix the garden!”  
Ziggy’s eyes bugged. “Wait what?!”  
“And this was so fun up to this point too…” said Stingy regretfully.  
Stephanie bit her lip. She thought for a moment before she shook her head and looked at her friends in disapproval. “Come on guys, maybe Sportacus is right! Let’s give Mr. Rotten a chance! Who knows, maybe he has softened up a bit since we last saw him.” She said, her own voice not sounding too believing.  
Sportacus smiled, missing the girl’s more suspicious tone. “Thanks, Stephanie. I’ll be right back!” he said cheerily, bounding over past the gate and towards the man.

Robbie had been lost in his thoughts when the blue-clad witch walked into his field of vision, that always wide and ever-present smile still plastered on his face. Robbie gasped and nearly jumped backwards. Finally realizing he wasn’t in danger, he clasped his chest and took deep breaths, trying to slow his rapidly beating heart.  
Sportacus looked at his friend in concern. “Oh! Sorry, Robbie! Did I startle you?”  
Robbie panted and looked at the witch. “Oh no, Sportacow, just thought I’d practice my freak outs for the next horror movie I watch.” He said sarcastically.  
Sportacus chuckled and shook his head. “You’re so dramatic, Robbie.”  
“And you aren’t very good at not scaring people with your hellos.” Robbie said with a smirk. “So, what’s up Sportawitch? Other then startling me, of course.”  
Sportacus smiled. “Well, I was helping out with some gardening…”  
Robbie glanced down at his mud-stained outfit. “So, I see.”  
“…and I was wondering if you’d like to help out! Could always use another pair of hands!”   
Robbie frowned. “Thanks, but no thanks. Dirt and mud is not my thing. It’s a pain to wash out of clothing.”  
“Not even for a little bit? I could help you clean your clothes and I bet the kids would appreciate the help!” Sportacus said, gesturing to the children. The kids looked at Robbie with uneasy and suspicious expressions.  
Robbie looked over at the garden. He paused, before he snickered. “Kids didn’t cover up the garden before the rainfall? Serves them right, every gardener knows how to take care of their plants in case of a rainstorm.”  
Sportacus’s smile fell. “Well, okay yes, they did forget to protect the garden. But they still worked really hard on it and they feel bad about not preparing in time!”  
“Well, that’s life. You don’t prepare for something in time, you’re going to be sideswept by it.” Robbie said coolly.  
Sportacus frowned. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”  
“It’s true and you know it, Sportadork. Maybe it’s about time they learned not everything can be salvaged.” Robbie said with a shrug.  
Sportacus furrowed his brow and tossed a gardening hoe over his shoulder. He shook his head and turned back towards the kids. He stopped only one last time to look back at Robbie. “You know, you can just say no. If you’d said it one more time, I wouldn’t have asked again.”  
“Good to know. Have fun in the dirt, Sportaclod.” Robbie said dismissively, before walking away.

Sportacus still had a frown hardened onto his face when he returned to the kids, his eyes drifted down to the ground in thought.  
“Didn’t go well, huh? Figured it wouldn’t, Robbie doesn’t want to help with _anything_.” Stingy said, taking a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  
Trixie frowned and elbowed her friend harshly in the arm. Stingy nearly dropped his sandwich as he gripped the sore spot on his arm, glaring at his friend in response. “I was just telling the truth!”  
“Time and place, Stingy.” Trixie hissed. She looked up at the witch, who still seemed frustrated and confused by his interaction with the town recluse.  
“I wouldn’t stew about it too much, Sportacus. Robbie’s just always been like this. He hates helping out around the town.” Trixie explained.  
Sportacus shook his head. “But Bessie told me he’s helped you guys out before! And he helped me when I was sick…”  
“He did??” asked Ziggy in surprise.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Wait, when did he help _us_?” Pixel asked.  
“Bessie told me that he made the purple cupcakes that sold well at you guys’ bake sale.” Sportacus said.  
The kids looked at each other in surprise.  
“Well…I guess that’s not as surprising as I thought. I mean, they were _purple_. And no one else knew who made them.” Stephanie said thoughtfully.  
Sportacus sighed. “I just don’t get why he had to be rude about saying no.”  
“Could be just how Robbie is.” Stephanie suggested. She smiled and gave Sportacus a quick, one-armed hug. “Or he’s just grumpy today. Either way, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Standing back up, she gestured to her friends. “Come on guys, let’s get back to it! We’ve still got a lot left to do!”

The kids jumped up and ran back towards the piles of gardening tools and soil. Sportacus joined them, albeit a bit more slowly.

By the end of the day, the kids and Sportacus had made good progress on the garden. Yet, even then, they’d only made progress on a quarter of the garden. Granted, there was a lot of screwing around. Mud fights, giggling games, sword fights with the gardening equipment. A lot of time was lost, to say the least. Still, good progress had been made. Not as much as they would’ve liked, but progress nonetheless.  
“Man, that was a lot of hard work!” said Pixel wearily, wiping mud and sweat off his brow.  
Sportacus nodded and smiled. “It was, but it would’ve been much harder if we didn’t work together. You guys did a great job! I’m sure we’ll have the garden back to normal by the end of the week!”  
One of the other children, named Joe, looked at the garden uneasily. “Mr. Sportacus, do you think everything will grow back in time? I mean, Stephanie said we’ve planted most of the seeds late. They won’t be ready for harvest season then, right?”  
Another girl named Margaret piped up, “I hope that isn’t right! I really was hoping to have some pumpkins ready for Halloween!”  
“What about my watermelons? Will those be ready in time?” asked a kid named Harvey.  
“I…I don’t know! There’s a chance they’ll be ready, but I don’t know.” Sportacus admitted. He looked upon the kids’ disappointed faces with sadness. “I’m sorry guys.”  
“It isn’t fair. We planted everything on time and made sure it was growing well, and then a lousy rainstorm destroys our hard work!” pouted Ziggy.  
Sportacus patted the blonde boy on the head. “I know it isn’t fair, but we still are trying, right? Who knows, maybe we’re still in the right season to grow everything! And even if not,” he said, smiling and tapping the side of his nose. “there’s always a way!”  
“Thanks, Sportacus.” Said Stephanie with a weak smile.  
A chorus of cries rang throughout the town.  
“Oh geez, our parents! Dinner time!” Pixel said in alarm.

The kids instantly stampeded towards their homes. Sportacus kept up the pace behind Stephanie when he stopped. From the corner of his eyes, he could’ve sworn he saw a pair of eyes peeking from the darkest parts of an alleyway. However, when he looked again, the figure was gone. He quirked an eyebrow at the alley. Was someone watching them this whole time? And if so, who?  
“Sportacus! Hurry, Uncle made meatloaf tonight!” Stephanie said cheerily.  
Sportacus gave a single nod before jogging back up to Stephanie, looking away from the alley.

\--

“Sportacus, you’ve been pacing for an hour. You’re going to wear grooves into the floor if you keep it up.” Said Circe.

Sportacus stopped in his tracks, looking at his familiar. He nodded and sighed in agreement. “I know Circe, I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot.”  
“Clearly.” Said Circe, licking her fur clean of some ketchup that she got onto herself from dinner. “Is it about the garden? I just figured you and I would sneak in after dark and try to finish up the planting ourselves.”  
Sportacus looked at his familiar in surprise. “You think that’d be a good idea too?”  
“Well if it’s true that the kids looked, and I quote, ‘ _devastated_ ’, then it’d be better than the alternative. By that I mean mopey kids who’ll never garden again.”  
Sportacus bit his lip. “I mean, I don’t think the kids would go _that_ far.”  
“But why take the chance, right? We’ll help them out and give them the best chance we can. Problem solved.”  
“ _That_ problem’s solved. That wasn’t what I was thinking about though.” Sportacus said, resuming his pacing.  
Circe sighed. “Then what is the problem?”  
Sportacus bit his lip, as if holding back his next reply.  
“Sportacus, come on. You can tell me. We’re best friends, remember?” said Circe, emphasizing the sweetness in her voice and batting her eyelashes.  
Sportacus chuckled and gave a slight smile. “Alright. I’m thinking about Robbie.”  
“Ah, the man himself. So, what’s he got you down about this time? Has he thrown more sportscandy at you? Called you nasty names? Cursed your scarf to strangle you?”

“I’m certain that if he cursed my scarf, I wouldn’t still be wearing it.” Sportacus said, tugging on his scarf for emphasis. He sighed and laid back on his bed. “No, it’s not what he’s done or said to _me_. It’s how he was acting towards the kids.”  
“Oh yeah?” asked Circe.  
Sportacus nodded. “I don’t get it Circe. Bessie told me that Robbie has helped them out in the past on his own volition. That tells me that he must care about the kids somewhat. Enough to go out of his way and bake dozens of cupcakes and frost them, either with magic or by hand, and deliver them to the school without any request for credit.” He frowned. “He also helped me when I was sick. He gave me that blanket and warm drink when I was sneezing,”  
“Which you still haven’t returned.” Circe pointed out.  
Sportacus blushed slightly at that statement. “It, uh, slipped my mind.” He shook off the thought. “You get what I mean though; he’s been nice to me and others in the past. Then, today, he just so… _coldly_ blows off the children’s concerns about their garden. Doesn’t even give a thought about their feelings or disappointment. I tell him about how they’re devastated over their destroyed garden, and he tells me they deserved it.” He peered at his familiar, upside-down in his vision. “What do you think’s making him act like that?”  
Circe peered down at her witch. “I can only guess that Robbie has his own reasons, Sportacus. You remember that Bessie also said that Robbie might’ve dealt with a lot in his past. I’m thinking she might be right and, if she is, then it’s pretty difficult to say why he’d act one way one day and opposingly on another. Could be a day where he’s especially thinking about something that bothers him, so he can’t emotionally handle anything else at the minute. Could be that he has trust issues with the townies. Could be that he’s afraid of making any emotional connections with people because his past relationships ended prematurely or went down in flames.” She noted. She absently licked her paw. “Or, could be he had a bad lunch. Any of it is possible.”  


Sportacus frowned. “I guess you’re right.”  
Circe stopped her grooming. “What do _you_ think would make him act like that?”  
Sportacus shrugged. “I…I don’t know. I just know that isn’t the Robbie I’ve seen.”  
“Sure. The Robbie we know would be trying harder to kill us or run us out of town.”  
Sportacus shot his familiar a look. “You know he’s stopped that for a while. He’s being friendly now.”  
“I know, I know. I was just kidding. Still, what makes you think this is out of character for him? He didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat when we first got here.”  
“No, he didn’t.” confirmed Sportacus. He sighed. “I just…I’ve _seen_ him be kind. He can be really considerate. And when he is, he’s…” he said, stopping himself. “Well, either way, he could be a friendly and good neighbor. He just isn’t and I don’t know why.” He said quietly, his eyes drifting towards the window.  
Circe looked at her witch, seeing him stare out the window. She hopped onto his chest, carefully walking forward until she supported her front paws on the side of his jaw. “You know, you could probably find a much lower maintenance friend. One that’s less emotionally draining. You’ve got plenty of candidates in town. You don’t _have_ to be friends with Robbie.”  
Sportacus looked at Circe, shock in his eyes. “That’s not even an option I’d consider.” He said firmly.  
“And why is that?” she asked, raising a brow.  
Sportacus looked away, thankful that the silver moonlight hid the color of his face. “B-Because friends don’t do that. Friends don’t give up on other friends.” He finally said quietly. Shifting up until his whole body was on the bed, he turned away as Circe hopped off his chest.

“Let’s get some quick sleep. I’ll cast a quick spell to wake us up once all the kids are asleep.” Sportacus said, snapping his fingers. A small, blue light hovered above the bed. Sportacus closed his eyes to try to sleep, all the while Circe looked at him suspiciously.

\--

A few hours later, Sportacus and Circe were up in the air, flying casually over the rooftops of LazyTown. Sportacus occasionally peered down at the sleepy town below, their windows darkened and the streets empty. The night was quiet save for the occasional rustling of discarded papers and the leaves on the trees. In the distance, he could hear the crickets and cicadas hum and chirp. Circe half-closed her eyes as the warm night air blew in her face.   
“Always the fun part after so much rain: the air becomes so muggy.” Circe grumbled, though she couldn’t hide how her body relaxed from the warmth.  
Sportacus chuckled. “Love to complain, huh?”  
“You know me, it’s what I do.” Circe said with a yawn. “Where’s the garden?”  
Sportacus pointed below them. “Right there. I’ll circle us down.”

Pointing his broomstick down, Sportacus aimed himself towards the garden. Looping around, Sportacus sighed as he felt the air blow against his face and cool the small amount of exposed ear that stuck from his cap. Opening his eyes, he looked down on the garden and spotted…someone. Eyes widening, Sportacus redirected his broom to the school’s rooftop. The two skidded to a halt, Sportacus grabbing his familiar and pulling her close to his chest, ducking below the guard wall.  
“Sportacus? What the heck?!” Circe said angrily, her voice muffled by his shirt.  
Sportacus hushed his familiar as he crept to the edge. He thought he’d seen someone, a certain someone, but he had to make sure it was him. Creeping along on his hands and knees, Sportacus allowed Circe to jump onto his back instead. She flattened herself against his back as he snuck closer to the edge. Barely peeking his head above the guard wall, Sportacus peeked down at the garden and saw exactly what he thought he’d seen.  
The moment that Sportacus looked over was when Robbie had taken a moment to stop, sticking his shovel into the ground to keep it still. The usually pristine, lanky man was caked with dirt that clung to his jeans (Sportacus didn’t even know he _owned_ jeans) and ratty long sleeve. The man turned towards Sportacus, the witch ducking in alarm. After waiting a moment, Sportacus peeked back over, gulping as he caught a glimpse of the man. Robbie’s face was dusted and smeared with dirt and mud, a few pieces of his usually perfect hair sticking to his forehead. Robbie brushed his brow with the back of his hand, panting slightly from the exertion.   
Sportacus was left feeling surprisingly light. He hadn’t seen Robbie this, well, made down since that day in the rain. Before he could stop himself, a half-smile grew on his face. He could feel his cheeks start to warm.  
Sportacus finally forced himself to tear his attention away from Robbie to the garden which, much to his shock, was completely restored. The plant beds were replaced with fresh dirt and seeds, and the pots had new plants or saplings planted. The watering systems had been reset and reinstalled through each of the plant beds, their timers reset as well. By all accounts, the garden looked back to normal, albeit with less sprouts and partly grown plants.

Sportacus sat back as he listened to Robbie mumble to himself.  
“Can’t believe Sportacus didn’t just grow these plants with his magic. Thought it’d be an obvious solution for a witch like himself.” He grumbled.  
“ _Well, yes, I could’ve. But –_ “Sportacus thought to himself.  
“Then again, maybe he’d consider that ‘cheating’. Sounds like him.” Robbie said with a laugh.  
Sportacus blushed furiously. He wasn’t sure if it was embarrassing or spooky that Robbie pretty much knew already why he wouldn’t instantly grow the kids’ garden with magic. At least not in front of them.  
Robbie stretched his back, creating a symphony of popping sounds that terrified Sportacus with their volume. He surveyed his work, checking off his mental list of plants.  
“Let’s see, Margaret’s pumpkins…check. Harvey’s watermelons, got it. Trixie’s oranges, yup. Stephanie’s strawberries, affirmative. Ziggy’s lollipop plants…accounted for, but still dumb…” Robbie mumbled. After running down each child’s work, he nodded. “Finally, everything’s here.” He said with a sigh.  
Sportacus continued to listen in awe.  
Robbie looked over the plant beds, biting his lip. “Still that problem of the plants not growing in time. Those kids would be broken if their plants just up and died come autumn, if what I heard says anything.” He said softly.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. Had Robbie been the figure he saw earlier, the one spying on him and the kids?  
Robbie nodded. He bent down near one of the plant beds, twiddling his fingers above the soil. “Sportadork might be against magical cheating, but I’m not. In theory I can do this, so let’s get some plants growing.” He said determinedly to himself. Flexing his fingers over the dirt, Robbie closed his eyes and tried to focus on the seeds buried deep within the earth. His fingers glowed a bright purple color, sparks jetting off his tips. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling the energy coagulate and swirl around his hands, eclipsing his arms in streams of lavender and deep purple light. Finally, he exhaled and dug his fingers into the soil, breathily muttering an ancient word that Sportacus knew was similar to “bloom”. A shockwave of purple magic shook through the plant beds, disrupting some loose soil as it jetted through the entire garden. The spots where the seeds were planted flickered briefly a purple color. Robbie panted as he forced his eyes open, sweat joining with the dirt on his brow. Clearing his throat, he stood up straight, waiting anxiously for his magic to begin its work.

Minutes passed. Nothing.

While Sportacus couldn’t see Robbie’s face, he could see how his hands clenched into fists and his body tense. He jumped back slightly as Robbie kicked the side of the plant bed, uttering an angered sound as he did, before recoiling and hopping about, holding his bruised foot.  
Finally stabilizing himself, he snarled and glared at the garden.  
“Course, fat lot of good I could do. Still exhausted from healing that cat of his. Most like me could refuel their magic in hours, but no, mine always takes _days_.” He muttered to himself in a frustrated fashion, his tone taking a sad course.  
He sighed and shook his head, turning on his heel towards the garden gate. Sportacus’s heart stopped for a second as Robbie paused, and he briefly looked up towards the rooftops. Sportacus ducked below just in time.  
Sportacus waited until he heard the crunching of gravel once more, and an utterance of “can’t even get this right”, before he looked over the edge once more. He watched carefully as Robbie sulked and trudged away, walking towards the darkened town center until he finally vanished from Sportacus’s vision.

He gave a sad look towards Robbie’s direction before his mind soon became awhirl with thoughts and feelings. Mostly, it was a mixture of relief, curiosity, and…well, something else. A something else that made his cheeks burn, and the more he focused on those feelings the more his cheeks warmed. He shook off those feelings as much as he could to consider the other two feelings. The relief from the assurance that, yes, Robbie did indeed care immensely about the children and his comments earlier were most likely an act. The curiosity and, to a degree, confusion from the lacking answers to “why”. Sportacus ruminated upon this missing puzzle piece until he felt a pair of claws dig into his chest, earning a flinch from the witch.  
He instantly loosened the vice grip he had on his familiar, passively watching Circe tumble to the ground, landing on her feet. She gasped and panted, before shooting a glare at the witch.  
“Care to explain why you felt the need to make me acquainted with your chest, Sportacus?” she asked angrily.  
Sportacus blinked, then looked at his familiar apologetically. “Sorry, I just saw Robbie in the garden. He fixed up everything on his own.” He said, pointing towards the community garden.  
Circe hopped onto the barrier and stared down at the garden, her eyes widening with surprise. “Well, color me impressed. Didn’t expect this out of the noodle man.” She looked at Sportacus. “Makes our job easier at least. You still want to use some growth magic on the seeds or just leave them be?”  
Sportacus looked at the garden thoughtfully. He considered Robbie’s frustration over his inability to grow the plants himself. He nodded. “I still want to try. Maybe not make them grow completely, but at least give them a jump start.”  
Circe nodded and blinked, vanishing in a flash of light. She apparated by the first plant bed, waiting for Sportacus to flip down from the rooftops. He landed carefully, flinching as some gravel dug itself into his palms. He jogged to the plant bed, twiddling his fingers above the soil. He bit his lip, coaxing some of his magic into his hands. They quickly began to glow a soft, sky blue. Closing his eyes, he steadied his breathing.  
“Sportacus.” Circe said.  
Sportacus shook his head, feeling his magic build in his fingertips. Sparks and glitter flew from his hands like little fireflies.  
“Sportacus.” Circe said, more warningly.  
The witch finally exhaled and dug his fingers into the dirt, trying to conjure up as many thoughts he could muster of spring and freshly sprouted plants. A weak whimper and a buzz emitted from his magic, before it cut out all-together, his magic releasing a small hum before fading away.

Sportacus opened his eyes and glanced embarrassedly at his cat.  
“Need I remind you that you’re incapable of using plant magic?” Circe said with a look.  
Sportacus looked like a scolded child as he said, “But most witches are fairly adept with plant magic. My mentor was teaching me plant magic for years! I should be able to do this!”  
“Yeah? But you’re not like most witches.” Circe said with a frown. She walked over and nudged Sportacus’s hand.  
Sportacus sighed. “Alright, then how am I supposed to grow this garden?”  
Circe winked. “You remember how I broke the hex on your broom? We’ll be using that good stuff again here. Ancient magic, otherwise known as gesture magic.”  
Sportacus perked up at the suggestion. “Gesture magic? I’ve never done that magic before! How do we start?”  
Circe sat back, lifting her forelegs up so she perched in a mock sitting position. “Well, we’re trying to grow plants, right? We need to _be_ like the plants. Put your palms together, fingers pointing up.”  
Sportacus followed in suit, watching carefully.  
“Now this is the tough part. Gesture magic itself is difficult because it’s half your entire body and half a dialogue with what you’re enchanting. Your whole self needs to be free of conflict or stress to best execute a gesture spell. You’ll need to coax the plant into sprouting, get in tune with its own innate magic and energies.” Circe explained. She looked at her witch expectantly. “You think you’ve got that?”  
Sportacus nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”  
“Good, then let’s begin.” Said Circe, her tone growing more serious.

Circe breathed in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she cleared her mind. Sportacus watched as her whiskers twitched, the air seemingly buzzing with her magic. The tips of her whiskers and the two spots on her back began to glow as she pressed her paws together. She scrunched her face, uttering silent deals and negotiations with the seeds in the earth. With a grunt, she raised her paws up into the air, mimicking a tree growing upwards. With an audible pop, Sportacus was amazed as one of the seeds instantly appeared as a young sprout, its leaves a pale green. Circe lowered her paws and repeated the process again, forcing another seed to sprout. One after the other, Circe began to grow half of the plant bed.  
“Hey Sportacus, as much fun as I imagine you’re having watching, I could really use some assistance here. Gesture magic takes a lot out of you.” Circe said, her voice strained from the exertion.  
Sportacus nodded and clapped his hands together. He closed his eyes and searched through the energies in the air, directing himself towards the thin, white energy that emitted from one of the seeds. He gently “approached” the seed’s core, coaxing it forward, urging it to sprout. His hands trembled as he gradually pushed upwards, mimicking his familiar’s actions. He grunted as he raised his hands above his head, listening with anticipation for the popping sound that follows.  
But nothing.  
Sportacus quirked an eye open, and looked in disbelief at the nothing he caused. Closing his eyes, he tried again, this time more insistently urging the seed to sprout. He raised his hands again. Once more, no popping sound. He tried multiple times over, each time begging the seed the grow. Yet, nothing. A faint whispering filled his ears, the voice so fresh and new, yet near silent.  
“Sportacus, any luck?” asked Circe, taking a break from her spell casting.  
Sportacus shook his head. “No, the seed’s saying that it can’t feel my energies. I’m giving it everything I can but it’s saying something is…blocking it.”  
“Blocking it?” Circe said in surprise. She thought for a moment, pondering a potential cause. “Well, like I said, if you have some conflict or stress, or perhaps something you’re repressing, it’ll block your magic flow. Do you think you have something like that?”  
Sportacus froze. “N-No, I don’t think so.”  
Circe paused, noticing the witch’s hesitation. She looked at him suspiciously. “Really?”  
Sportacus gave a quick nod. “I can’t think of anything that’s bothering me like that.”  
“Doesn’t have to be bothersome. Could be just something you’re thinking a lot about.” Said Circe casually. She gave her witch another look. “So, something on your mind?”  
Sportacus gave a single, uneasy laugh. “Nope! Not that I can think of!”  
“Really?” Circe said, falling back onto her four feet. She looked innocently at the witch and brushed his arm with her tail. “Not even a certain, noodle-ish man in town? I mean, he WAS making you pretty upset earlier. That’s not on your mind at all?” she said sweetly.  
Sportacus cringed, trying to ignore his familiar’s goading as he attempted the gesture spell again. He could feel the sweat build on his brow as, yet again, the spell failed.  
Circe frowned as she watched his spell fizzle again. She began to purr and rub her head against his chest. “Come on Sportacus, we’re friends, right? You don’t need to be shy, just tell me if you’re thinking of Mr. Noodle or not. Remember, we don’t have all night.” She said in a sing-song tone.  
Sportacus gulped, then nodded. “I…yeah, I’m thinking about Robbie again.”

A quick pop sound rang out. Both Sportacus and Circe looked in surprise at the small sprout that sprung from the ground.

Circe smirked. “Alright, we’re on the right path then. Anything _specific_ you’re thinking about him? I’m guessing it must be something you really are spun around the axle on.” she asked.  
Sportacus’s face instantly flushed a bright pink. He cleared his throat. “Um, no. Nothing specific.”  
“You suck at lying and you know it. Come on, you must be thinking _something_ about him. He did just do all this work for the kids, without asking for credit or thanks. That’s awfully nice of him, something you said was characteristic of him earlier. You must feel something about this, don’t you?”  
Sportacus’s cheeks grew even pinker. “I mean, it’s good to see that he does care about the children. That is nice.”  
“Aaaand?” Circe goaded.  
Sportacus sucked in a breath. “And that I was right? He is a caring individual, just does it in his own way. That’s fantastic, and that’s it.” He said quickly.  
Circe gave a sly smile. “Really now. Your face is telling another story.”  
Sportacus just then realized how warm his face felt. He opened his mouth, preparing to counter his familiar’s statement, but his words had left him.  
“So, Sportacus, you’re thinking about Robbie. How _often_ do you think about him?” she asked.  
Sportacus bit his lip, his face almost on fire at this point. “…A lot.”

Another popping sound. The plants began to slowly grow, progressing from sprouts to young plants, leaves branching from their stems.  
  
Circe didn’t miss that bit. She smiled, deciding to leap on the hypothesis she was forming. With a smirk, she goaded Sportacus even more. “You think about him a lot huh? Wow, that’s interesting. I wonder _how_ you think of him?”  
Sportacus kept his mouth shut as he kept up the physical gestures.  
“Hmm, I’m guessing it must be at least positively huh?”  
Sportacus’s cheeks burned even more. The dirt in the garden began to glow and hum.  
“I’m going with a yes, considering you aren’t even talking to me. So, what’s up Sportacus?”  
Sportacus sucked down a hard gulp, sweating rolling down his forehead.  
“Oh come on, Sportacus. You know you can’t hold it back forever. Just say it! What’s up? What’s up with you and him?” said Circe more pushily.  
Sportacus squeezed his eyes shut, before finally responding, “I have a crush on him, okay??”

A shockwave reverberated from the garden, sending both Circe and Sportacus flying backwards. Bright blue magic filled the area, with cracking sounds and sifting sounds eclipsing the silence. Sportacus cringed as he landed against the rough gravel, rolling half backwards, his legs sticking up in the air. Circe crashed further behind him, rolling back onto her feet, her eyes wide with shock and her fur a fuzzy mess. Sportacus finally opened his eyes, his cheeks as red as a tomato, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. He laid limply on the ground, his eyes unfocused and staring at the night sky.  
Circe, meanwhile, leapt onto his chest and sat near his shoulders. “There you go. Feeling better now? I mean, not like I couldn’t have guessed it. The red on your face could put Santa Clause to shame.”  
Sportacus’s lips grew to a thin line as he buried his face in his hands, trying in vain to hide his blushing.  
“Hey, come on, I’m just joshing you. No need to be embarrassed, really.” Circe said reassuringly.  
“I can’t believe I said that aloud.” Sportacus said, his voice slightly muffled.  
“It’s not a big deal. So, you’ve got a crush, what’s the problem?”   
“I…I don’t know. Maybe…well, it’s just, isn’t this too quick? We’re still just barely being friends, I can’t be crushing on him _yet_. It’s stupid, isn’t it? Right?” Sportacus asked.  
Circe shrugged. “Nah. You find him attractive, nothing bad. Perfectly natural thing for someone to feel. And, of course, it’s not the principal reason you’re befriending him, right?”  
“Of course not!” said Sportacus.  
“Then there you go. Just good to finally have that cleared.” She said, licking her paw. “What’re you going to do about it?”  
“Nothing, right now. Not yet, anyways.” Sportacus said with a sigh. “Probably not going to do anything about it for quite some time. We still have to work out the friendship part.”  
“Fair enough, though there’s one thing you should do at the minute.” Circe said, turning away from the witch.  
“What’s that?”  
“Maybe shrink down the monstrous tree you grew with your spell?” Circe suggested.

Sportacus sat up, his mouth gaping open at the sight. Within a minute, the garden had been transformed into an overgrown mess, overflowing with fruits and vegetables. The neatly cleaned pathways were covered in outstretched branches and vines. The fruit tree saplings that’d been planted had grown up into the sky, their limbs stretched out and filled with fresh fruit. Decades of growing and care had somehow been compressed into a single moment.  
“Oh.” Was all that Sportacus could say from the sight.  
“Yeah, the kids might question this a little bit.” Circe said.  
Sportacus nodded. “Give me another minute. I’ll try a reversal spell, shrink these back down to a reasonable size. I just need to rebuild my stamina.”  
“Sounds good. And Sportacus?”  
“Hmm?”  
“You really need to knock off the lying. Especially to me. It’ll never be something you’re good at.”

\--

As the sun broke over the horizon, Stephanie leapt out of her bed. She glanced over at her desk, where she’d already laid out her gardening clothes, along with her pink gloves. She quickly got dressed and grabbed her pack, which held her lunch and other supplies. As she closed the door behind her, she crept down the hallway, peeking momentarily through the crack in Sportacus’s door. He was gone, as usual. He was always up and out by dawn. Walking carefully down the stairs, Stephanie ate a quick breakfast before heading out towards the garden.  
She sighed as she breathed in a breath of the fresh, early morning air. This time of the morning invigorated the soul, at least for Stephanie. How fantastic it is to be a morning person. A skip appeared in her step as she bounded towards the garden. Her mind was a buzz with different ideas for how to more efficiently fix up the community garden. As she rounded the corner, she stopped in her tracks. Her mouth dropped open as she took in the sight, her heart rising in her chest. A wide grin appeared on her face as she immediately turned and ran, heading towards her friends’ homes.

An hour later, Stephanie had successfully gathered all the children in LazyTown, many looking fairly groggy and grumpy.  
“Stephanie, is this really something that couldn’t wait until later?” yawned Stingy, rubbing his eyes wearily.  
“I was having the greatest dream too. I had a tuxedo made of taffy…” mumbled Ziggy, dragging his feet.  
“Sorry guys, but this is really amazing! You have to see it to believe it!” she said insistently, pulling at Stingy’s sleeve.  
“But is it ‘get up at 7 am’ amazing?” asked Pixel.  
“I think so! Take a look at this!” Stephanie said, pointing towards the garden.  
The kids stumbled forth, their eyes growing wide as dinner plates as they gazed upon their once ruined garden. Where once was just dirt, sprouts and smaller plants had appeared. Bean vines trailed around their trellises, and tomato sprouts grew up their supports. The saplings they’d planted had grown a bit overnight, their branches stretching further over the paths. As a nice addition, the few fragrant flower seeds they’d planted had also grown and blossomed, filling the area with a delightfully sweet smell. It was all gorgeous, and looked just like it did before the rainstorm.  
“I can’t believe my eyes!” said Pixel in shock.  
“Everything’s back to normal…but how?” asked Trixie.  
Stephanie grinned. “I told you guys! It’s a miracle!” she said, pushing past the gate and running into the garden. Her friends followed close behind, marveling at the botanical beauty that sat around them. Pixel and Stingy ran over to the butternut squash plants, checking over their leaves and stems for health.  
“Can’t believe it, these are all perfectly healthy again!” Pixel said in wonder.  
“How could this happen? I’ve never even heard of plants growing this fast!” Stingy said.  
Ziggy and a few other children ran towards the grapevines and apple trees they planted, one of the smaller children being hoisted onto the back of a taller child to reach the trees’ newly grown branches. Giggles and laughter erupted from the younger kids. Harvey and Margaret looked over the flowering cucumber plants.  
Stephanie, meanwhile, gazed upon the sweet-smelling blossoms, marveling at the peonies and roses. Trixie, noticing that Stephanie was by herself, nervously shuffled towards the girl, her hands in her pocket.  
“Hey Pinky, are these yours? Or did you plant something else?” Trixie asked, trying to muster as much casualness as she could.  
Stephanie looked up, a bright smile on her face. “No, these aren’t mine. I planted the strawberries over there, but these are especially beautiful.”  
Trixie let a small, half-smile escape her. “Yeah, I agree.”  
Stephanie sighed contently. “This really is amazing. It’s like something out of a dream.”  
Trixie bit her lip, feeling her heart beat in her ears as she gathered up her courage. “Hey, uh, Pinky. Can I ask you something?”  
Stephanie looked at her friend. “Sure! What’s up?”  
Trixie’s cheeks took on a rosy pink color as she began to pull the letter out of her pocket. “Well, see I uh, I have – “  
“Hey Stephanie! Look at this! Your strawberries are already producing fruit!” Pixel called.  
Stephanie gasped. “Oh! Coming!” She looked at Trixie quickly. “Sorry Trixie, be right back!” she said, before running to join her other friends.  
Trixie felt her spirits fall, her courage retreating back to its corner. She nodded as Stephanie ran off, stuffing the letter back into her pockets. She supposed she’d have another chance another day. She shuffled away to look at the freshly sprouted zucchini plants instead.

As the children continued to admire their garden, they heard the sounds of gravel crunching behind them. They turned to see the wide smile of Sportacus, standing alongside his familiar. They ran towards the witch cheerily.  
“Sportacus! Look! When we woke up this morning, the garden was all fixed!” Ziggy said excitedly, bouncing up and down.  
Sportacus smiled. “I can see that! That’s pretty amazing!” he said.  
Stephanie walked up to the witch. “Sportacus, did you use your magic? Is that why the garden is fixed?”  
Sportacus averted his eyes and cringed, giving an awkward chuckle. “Well, I may have used a little magic here and there.” He admitted.  
The kids looked up at him in wonder.  
“That’s so cool!” remarked Harvey.  
“T-Then, we don’t have to worry about our plants sprouting late! Everything’s on schedule now!” cheered Ziggy.  
The kids gathered and hugged Sportacus happily.  
“Thank you so much, Sportacus!” said Stephanie cheerily.  
Sportacus laughed and hugged the kids back. “Well, don’t just thank me! I only helped out a certain someone who finished all the replanting for us!”  
The kids looked at him in confusion.  
“Who else helped you? The Mayor? Mr. Troubleby? Jives?” asked Pixel.  
Sportacus shook his head. “No, not them…” he said, turning as he heard footsteps approaching the group. He smiled and gestured towards the person. “…him.”

The kids’ mouths, once again, gaped open.   
“Mr. Rotten?!” they chanted together.  
Robbie froze in his tracks, turning with slight fear towards the gaggle of children calling his name. His nose twitched nervously as he looked the children in the eyes.  
“Um, good morning?” he said uneasily with a shaky smile.  
Stephanie stepped out from the group, looking at Robbie with confusion. “Is it true, Mr. Rotten? Sportacus said _you_ replanted the rest of the garden last night. Did you actually do that?”  
Robbie’s face paled. He looked at Sportacus pleadingly, his mouth knitting into a thin line as he only received a nod from the witch. He awkwardly smiled as he responded with, “Y-Yeah, yes I did.” He frowned. “Though not because I _care_ about you brats or anything. I just didn’t want all of you to start crying. Then I’d never get any rest!”  
Stephanie originally frowned, scrunching her nose up and shaking her head. She sighed, and a faint smile crossed her face. “Well, thank you either way, Mr. Rotten. You really helped us out.”  
Ziggy was next to run up to Stephanie, a wide smile on his face. “Yeah! T-Thanks Mr. Rotten!” he said happily, giving the man a tight hug.  
Robbie had to hold back a gasp at the sudden contact. He looked down awkwardly at the young boy currently hugging his legs. His hard-held frown faded only slightly, replaced momentarily by a second of warmth, before he began to try the boy away. “Okay, Zippy, that’s enough hugging for today. I get it, you’re all thankful. You’re welcome.” He said, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes.  
Sportacus smiled and shook his head, stepping out between the children and Robbie. “Hey, why don’t you all continue exploring the garden? I bet there’s a ton more surprises in there! Maybe Mr. Rotten planted some more seeds of his own?”  
The children looked at each other excitedly before nodding, cheerily running back into the pathways full of plants and flowers.

Robbie straightened out his vest and smoothed his pants. “You saved me there, Sportaflop. I don’t think I could’ve taken any more saccharine stuff like that.”  
Sportacus laughed. “You really are something else, Robbie. Only you would continue to act standoffish after helping the kids out so much.”  
“It just means I have an image to upkeep, unlike the rest of this crazy town.” Robbie remarked with a scoff.  
Sportacus’s smile fell slightly as he looked at Robbie more seriously. “Really though, thank you for helping the kids out. I know that the work you did last night couldn’t have been easy.”  
“Oh no, it wasn’t too bad. Just got a few blisters and a sore back, nothing bad.” Robbie said with a smirk.  
Sportacus chuckled quietly. “I’m just…relieved, I suppose.”  
“About what?”  
“That I was right. You do care about everyone here.” Sportacus said.  
Robbie snorted. “Not of my own choice. This town is infectious I guess. I just still can’t take as much as most of these other loonies. Being surrounded by gaggles of children and being drowned in hugs isn’t exactly my thing.”  
“Understandable. Everyone has different comfort levels, and people should respect that. Nothing wrong with that.” Sportacus said with a shrug.  
Robbie looked at the witch with surprise. He looked away as he mumbled, “at least you understand that.”   
Sportacus pointed at the garden. “Would you want to go walk through the garden?”  
“What, with all the kids there?” Robbie asked, peering around the witch.  
“Doesn’t have to be now. We could walk later on today if you’d prefer that.” Sportacus suggested.  
Robbie let a half-smile slip by. “I guess we could. I don’t think my calendar’s _too_ filled.”  
“Say, maybe around noon?” asked Sportacus.  
“Sure, see you then, Sportaloon.” Robbie said, before going back on his way.

Sportacus watched until Robbie vanished around the corner, a slight pink color on his cheeks.  
“Look at you, killing it with the noodle man.” Circe teased.  
Sportacus glared at his familiar, his pink darkening. “Circe!”  
“What? I’m allowed to tease you about this. Just because it’s okay to crush on him, doesn’t mean I can’t give you grief.” Circe smirked.  
Sportacus rolled his eyes and ignored his familiar as he turned to join back with the kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE long chapters! I swear, I don't mean for these to get so long, they just end up that way. I'm a wordy writer I guess XD
> 
> I know not a ton happens in this chapter, but things will start to pick up next chapter. Can't promise what kind of things start to pick up, but stuff definitely happens in the next one that'll be interesting. Hopefully you guys will enjoy that and enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	10. Life Like a TV Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of episodic events over a month in time where Sportacus and Robbie hang out.

_Now You’re Playing with Teleportation_

“So Robbie, I was wondering about your teleportation spell.” Said Sportacus.  
Robbie set down his fabric catalogue and looked at the witch in confusion. “Teleportation spell? You mean my shadowstepping?”  
Sportacus smiled. “Yeah, that! I was wondering how it worked? It looks pretty tricky, but I was still curious about it. I’ve never seen someone apparate like that.”  
Robbie smirked. “Well, I’ll let you know right now Sportaclown, you probably won’t be able to use it. Very few magic users can even accomplish shadowstepping, much less do it without getting hurt or being unable to control where they appear.”  
Sportacus shrugged. “I figured it’d be hard, though I’m still curious how it works. Even if I can’t use it, you obviously use it a lot.”  
Robbie sighed. “I guess I could show you how it works but, again, don’t know if you’ll ever be able to use it. It’s pretty special magic.”  
“Doesn’t matter if I can use it or not. It’s a cool skill that I’d love for you to explain!” said Sportacus eagerly.

Robbie smiled proudly and stood to his feet, stretching his back and arms, cracking his neck. “Let me warm up for a second, then I’ll try and show you.” He said with a dramatic vigor in his voice. Considering how much power and control Sportacus had over magic, Robbie was near chomping at the bit to finally show off some fancy magic of his own. Not to just impress him, of course (at least he told himself that), but to also establish his own prowess over an exclusive type of magic. Considering most of Sportacus’s experience with the lanky man’s magic was clumsy, to say the least, Robbie was eager to have Sportacus witness something he’s fairly adept at.  
 “Shadowstepping, as you see, is very different from teleportation. In that, it’s not instantaneous. It relies on casted shadows unlike teleportation. However, shadowstepping allows you to manipulate objects while in the shadows, something you can’t do mid-teleportation. Got that so far?”  
“Yup!” said Sportacus.  
“Good, here comes the hard part: the actual shadowstepping.” Said Robbie, his tone growing closer to an experienced college professor. He grounded his feet before continuing. “To shadowstep, you need to have some awareness of the darkness in life, both physical and internal. You must focus upon it, and let it encapsulate your mind.”  
“Being swallowed by darkness? Sounds like something Jives might be good at. He listens to music about shadows and inner darkness all the time.” Sportacus said with a laugh.  
“There’s a difference between shadowstepping and being a moody teenager, Sportakook.” Robbie said with a frown. “This isn’t obsessing over darkness, it’s acknowledging it. You let yourself see and think about shadows, night, and darkness.” He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Take a deep breath.” He said, breathing in and exhaling slowly. “Now, fall back.” He said. Leaning back, Robbie fell backwards, right into the path of the tree’s shadow. Right before his back hit the ground, Robbie’s form dissipated into a cloud of dark gray smoke.

Sportacus leapt to his feet and began to dig through the thick smoke, failing to find his friend. He looked around worriedly, wondering where Robbie had apparated.  
“Robbie? Robbie?” asked Sportacus.  
A rustling sound and a leaf falling towards his face gave Sportacus a hint to the lanky man’s location.  
He looked up, another leaf falling onto his face. Sportacus blew the leaf off and posed with his fists on his hips. He laughed. “How’s the view up there?”  
“Oh thanks Sportacus, laugh at my predicament. How kind of you.” Robbie said sarcastically, flailing as he felt the branch he clung to move underneath him.  
“So, I guess shadowstepping is as tough as you said? Or did you want to get up there?” asked Sportacus.  
“Totally did this on purpose. Just wanted to show you what happens when you lose focus shadowstepping. Do you get the idea now?” said Robbie quickly.  
“I believe so, Robbie.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
“Good, now help me down before I plummet to my death.” Robbie said with a forced smile.  
“I’m sure you could just leap from there, you aren’t that high up.” Said Sportacus.  
“How about no, and we say I did?” suggested Robbie with a strained smile.  
Sportacus nodded. “Alright, hang on. I’ll get you down.”  
“Thanks, Sportaloon.” Said Robbie, clinging more tightly as he felt the tree shift from the witch’s climbing.

//

_Always Wrong_

The tips of Sportacus’s chopsticks tapped against the plate as he picked another piece of bok choy up, allowing the sauce to drip from its leaf. He looked uneasily at the slightly overcooked vegetable perched between his utensils. Robbie had been the one to suggest this restaurant, a place called the “Pearly Lion Dog” on the edge of town and the only Chinese place in LazyTown. Initially, Sportacus had been excited to have some food that wasn’t the meals that the Mayor usually prepared (mostly American meals with a little Italian thrown in). But given the overall quality of the meals thus far, and given how each dish was drowned in ladles of sauce that, to Sportacus, smelled strongly of salt, Sportacus’s initial excitement had been long squashed.  
Robbie, meanwhile, slurped up another mouthful of chow mein. He pointed towards the untouched plate of orange chicken sitting on the table. “What’s up, Sportadork? You haven’t even tried the orange chicken yet.”  
Sportacus gave a polite smile before he glanced at the citrus chicken dish. The smile faded into a cringe as he looked over the glistening, orange sauce that coated each piece of meat. He poked a piece with his chopsticks. “Are you sure it’s chicken?”  
“Of course it’s chicken, why would you ask?”  
“Just making sure it’s not just sauce that happens to have chicken in it.” Sportacus said, his tone disapproving.  
Robbie chuckled, slurping up another noodle. “Wow, picky pants, didn’t know you were such a snob when it came to food.” Robbie said with a smirk.  
“I’m not! I just question whether there’s any nutritional value left after dousing everything in sauce.” Sportacus said, reluctantly picking up a piece of orange chicken. He sniffed it, recoiling at the harshly sweet scent. “And it smells pretty sweet.”  
“Sportaflop, it’s an orange sauce. You know, sportscandy? I thought that fruit is your favorite?” asked Robbie, chewing on another mouthful of chow mein.  
“I really doubt that this sauce includes any real oranges, Robbie.” Sportacus said doubtfully, putting down the piece of chicken.

Robbie sighed and shook his head. “You’re absolutely impossible. We can’t have lunch anywhere. Anyplace we go to eat, you can barely eat anything on the menu. Too much sauce, too much salt, too much sugar…”  
“What can I say? I like my food more natural.” Said Sportacus.  
“You like food that’s boring, Sportabore. Just face the facts.” Said Robbie, as the waiter set down two fortune cookies for the men.  
Both of them broke open their cookies, Sportacus setting aside the cookie part to glance at his fortunes.  
“What does yours say?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus frowned. “‘A good way to keep healthy is to eat more Chinese food’.” He said. He glanced back at his food, giving it a look. “I’m guessing the cookie doesn’t mean _this_ Chinese food.”  
Robbie let out a sputtered laugh, covering his mouth in embarrassment.  
“What??” asked Sportacus, looking in shock at his giggling friend.  
“Sorry, I’ve just never seen you get this…this…offended! By food!” Robbie said, laughing.  
Sportacus blushed a bright pink. “Well, it just could be better.” He said quietly.  
“It’s not a problem, Sportaloon. I find it funny, if you are worried. You’re making me laugh more than I have in a while.” He said, peering down at his fortune. He scrunched his nose at the writing.  
“What does yours say?” asked Sportacus.  
“‘When hungry, order more Chinese food’.” Robbie read.  
Sportacus sighed and smirked. “Well, at least there’s a running theme with the fortunes.”  
“Right, and the lesson we should take from this is to not go here again.” Robbie said, tossing the fortune paper behind him. “I’ll go pay, let’s get out of here and get you something else to eat.”

//

_Knot a problem, I’ll leave you be_

Robbie cringed as Haninn squawked once more, this time more loudly than before.  
“Pretty chatty bird, isn’t he?” Sportacus said with a smile.  
Robbie sighed, rubbing his temple. “That’s an understatement. I’ve been trying to train the darn thing for a few weeks, but all he does is bite me.” He said, holding up a bandaged hand.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened, and he gave a sympathetic hiss. “Ooo, I see.”  
“Eh, it’s fine. Pour a little antiseptic on them and they’re fine.” Robbie said with a laugh.  
Sportacus looked over at the cantankerous avian, watching him preen his feathers. He bit his lip. “What have you tried with him?”  
“The usual. Food, offering him water baths, not kicking him out during bad weather. He still really hates me. Not that I blame him, I wouldn’t trust someone who threw spells at me either.”  
Sportacus hummed and thought a moment. He looked back at Haninn, a sly smile crossing his face. Cupping his hands over his lips, he mimicked the cry of a crow. Haninn stopped his grooming and looked up, intrigued.  
Sportacus grinned. He crowed once more, and soon enough Haninn flew from his resting spot and onto the witch’s shoulder, cocking his head side to side with a perplexed look.  
Robbie had to fight the urge to let his mouth drop open. Instead, he cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. “Why aren’t I more shocked? Of course you, of all people, would be a fairytale princess on top of being a witch.”  
Sportacus laughed at the comment. “Not really. Circe just told me that that specific crow roughly means, ‘come over here, I’m a friend’.”  
“That cat’s pretty knowledgeable, huh?”  
“A perk that comes with being part of the animal equation.” Said Sportacus. He made a short series of quick caws, Haninn responding with his own burst of six crows. Sportacus gently rubbed the bird’s head, the crow waiting patiently in turn. “I can teach you some, if you’d like?”

“Maybe later. For the time, see if you can convince him not to bite me so much. Hard to sew when half your hand is covered in gauze.” Robbie said distractedly, turning back to his current project.  
Sportacus gave a half-smile. He looked at Haninn, giving him a low sound. Haninn, in turn, fluttered back up into the rafters. He skipped over to the lanky man, slowing down as he approached him. Robbie didn’t seem to acknowledge him, too sucked into his latest sewing commission. Sportacus watched quietly as Robbie ran the piece of shiny, pink fabric through the machine slowly and carefully, being careful not to let the slippery fabric catch under the pedal. Once he’d reached the end of that length of fabric, he pulled up the piece to check over the quality of the seam.  
“So, is this for Bessie or is it a special order?” asked Sportacus curiously.  
“Special order. A woman named Mrs. Ono wanted a special, pink dress for a ball she’s going to, so I need to get this finished and shipped by the end of the week.”  
Sportacus eyed the mannequin in the corner covered by a half-completed gown. “Do you think this will take you long?”  
“If she wants something that doesn’t look like it was made by a distracted third-grader, then yes this will be a while.” Robbie said, holding a pin between his teeth.  
Sportacus nodded, slowly crossing over to an open spot on a nearby table. He sat himself back against the table’s edge, tapping his fingers against the plastic surface. He looked up at the ceiling, humming quietly to himself. Robbie, occasionally, glanced over absently, barely acknowledging whatever the witch was doing.  
Sportacus perched himself up onto the table, sitting on its surface. He kicked his feet back and forth, trying to think of something to keep himself busy while Robbie worked. Clearly the lanky man wasn’t looking for conversation at the minute, but at the same time Sportacus wasn’t inclined to just leave. He watched as Haninn hopped out and flew from Robbie’s home, taking away his other distraction as he left. Sighing, he continued to tap the table’s surface.

“Bored?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus’s attention shot back towards the man. “Oh, no I’m fine.”  
“Sportacus.” Robbie said sternly, not looking at the witch.  
Sportacus bit his lip. “A little.” He admitted.  
Robbie sighed, and dug through a stuffed bag that sat underneath his table. Finding what he was looking for, he tossed a ball of blue yarn and a pair of needles at the witch. “I’d love to talk right now, but I really need to focus. Maybe this will keep you preoccupied for the moment.”  
Sportacus looked at the yarn in confusion. “Knitting?” he asked.  
“It’s quiet and requires all your focus. In other words, it’s the perfect thing to keep you busy.”  
“I’ve never knitted before though.” Sportacus said.  
Robbie chucked a book at the witch. “I’d teach you, but I need to focus on this. Hardest part is casting on, everything else is simple as cake.”  
Sportacus thumbed the first page open, laying the book down in his lap. “Okay Robbie.” He said, his hands working with the slightly too small knitting needles in his hands. Casting on was tricky, if only for the confusing, instruction pictures, as well as the vague directions on how many loops should be on the needles. Sportacus settled on casting 20 loops before he began to knit. His first row was messy and uneven, with some stitches far too tight while others were incredibly loose. Eventually, however, Sportacus got into a rhythm, his wooden needles clicking against each other as he slid on loop after loop.  
The room soon fell quiet, only the monotonous clicking of the needles and the whir of the sewing machine could be heard.  
Robbie, himself, soon relaxed. He couldn’t help but enjoy this strange moment of spending time together. Technically, they weren’t even interacting, yet it still felt personal. Funny, since Robbie usually liked working in complete solitude. Though here, he’d have to admit, it was nice to have at least some form of company, even if they weren’t talking.

The two continued to work in their relative, but not uncomfortable, silence for the rest of the afternoon.

//

_Temple of Learning_  
  
A rush of cool air met Sportacus’s face as he opened the library’s door, forcing him to squint and chilling his teeth. He shook off the coldness and opened his eyes once more, marveling at the compact, yet expansive collection of books that sat in front of him. The LazyTown library wasn’t the largest library he’d ever seen. It’d be unreasonable for him to expect a library as large as the ones in the capital. But considering how out of the way LazyTown was, Sportacus was still astonished by the rather sizable selection the library had. He waited and held the door open for Robbie as they both entered the establishment, both men striding towards the area near the counters.  
“So you’re serious? You haven’t been to a library in almost a year?” asked Robbie, giving a passive wave to the librarian at the counter.  
Sportacus shook his head. “I am! Before I came here, I never stayed in a town or city long enough to bother checking out any books! No good borrowing a book if you couldn’t even finish it before leaving.” He gave a slightly sad smile. “And I used to be one of those people who’d finish a book in a day or two. I miss those times.”  
“Well, no need to miss it now. If you’re stuck here for the foreseeable future, you might as well check out the library.” Robbie said with a half-smile, directing himself towards the non-fiction section.

Sportacus smiled and looked about, glancing at the directory signs above each row of books. He spotted the section marked “new arrivals” and grinned. He always loved checking out the newest books by his favorite authors and books by new authors. He walked over towards the section, passing by various distracted readers and students working on research papers. He crossed around the corner, eying the first shelf of arrivals, when he spotted a man hurriedly striding through the new arrivals row, precariously carrying a tall stack of books.  
Clearly, from how many books the man held, he wouldn’t be able to see much in front of him. So, when he tripped on a door stopper left carelessly on the floor, Sportacus was already lunging out to catch him, his other hand deftly catching the tossed books in the original, stacked order. He looked back at the man, helping him back to his feet, his eyes widening once he recognized the patron.  
“Jack?” he asked.  
Jack looked up with eyes big as dinner plates, a panic clear in his face. His lips formed a thin line as he gave a curt nod of thanks once he was given the books back.  
Sportacus gave a quick look at one of the books in Jackson’s stack. “ _A History of Stonewall_? I never took you to be into the history of the L – “he said.  
But before he could finish his thought, Jackson snatched the book away from him and rushed away towards the exit, pushing past the other patrons that just entered the library.  
“Jack!” Sportacus called after the farmer. A harsh shush from a librarian caused Sportacus to recoil, looking apologetically at the older woman. His eyes drifted down to the floor, spotting another book that Jackson left behind. He picked it back up, examining the title.  
“Alright, I need your help Sportafluff. I found five books on the history of French baking and I need you to pick one for me to start with. I can’t and won’t check them all out and – “Robbie said, stopping as he watched the witch continue to study the book in his hands. Robbie glanced over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at the title. “ _Destroying the Oppression of Heteronormativity_?” said Robbie.  
Sportacus looked back at his friend. “It’s not mine. I saw Jackson Troubleby a minute ago and he checked out a bunch of books like this one.”  
“Really? Huh, considering the guy, I never took him to be interested in gender and sexuality politics.” Said Robbie.  
Sportacus shrugged. “I guess everyone has their surprises, huh?”

“I guess.” Said Robbie. “So, have you found anything yet?”  
“I haven’t even gotten a chance to look!” said Sportacus with a laugh. He redirected his attention towards the long rows of books, sifting through the numerous titles and authors. A small grin crossed his face as one book caught his attention. He walked over and plucked it off the shelf, skimming its back summary.  
Robbie walked over and caught a glimpse at the author’s name and the title. He gave a look to Sportacus. “ _The Silver Lining of Blind Dates_? Really??”  
Sportacus blushed in embarrassment. “What? These books are really great!”  
“They’re mindless fluff, Sportadork. Mindless fluff about deranged women seducing men way out of their league. Ones lifted straight from underwear advertisements.” Robbie said matter-of-factly. He rolled his eyes. “They all have the same basic plot, and almost all of them have the same, happy ending. Rinse and repeat, disposable fiction. Come on, you can’t seriously like these pulpy things?”  
Sportacus sheepishly shrugged. “I-I like a happy ending! And most of these stories have really great ones too! And, you know, they’re really sweet. The protagonists always love each other so much.”  
“Sure, and they show it through endless parades of sap.” Robbie said with an eyeroll.  
Sportacus frowned. “What’s wrong with a sappy, fluffy story every now and then?”  
“Nothing. Just that after a while, it gets dull. Predictable. And you realize how sappy and corny people act when there’s no conflict.” Robbie said.  
“What, you want something bad to happen to the main characters?”  
“Sometimes, yes. At least so they get out of the sappy, doe-eyed stage. Gag.” Robbie said, sticking out his tongue.

Sportacus just quietly laughed, following Robbie to the counter to check out the books. Robbie made some comment about how his library record would now show him checking out a fluffy, gas station shelf quality romance novel and how he’d have to burn his current library card because of it, with Sportacus simply chuckling in response.  
The two walked out of the library with their finds in tow.  
“I can’t believe you hate fluffy romance stories.” Sportacus said with a headshake.  
“I don’t necessarily hate _all_ fluffy romance books. Just those ones.” Robbie said with a smirk.  
“I think you just hate fun stories.” Sportacus said teasingly.  
“I don’t. I just think with romance, the final romantic ending means more if you have the characters actually deal with conflict. Something that makes them have to overcome something either external or within themselves. Doesn’t that sound better?” Robbie said with verve.  
Sportacus bit his lip. “I guess, but isn’t literature escapism?”  
“To each their own. Maybe you like escapism that has no conflict. Personally, I prefer mine to be more inspiring than dreamy. Gives strength and inspiration to guide readers through the rough parts of life.” Robbie said.  
“Wow. Deep. Thank you, Professor Rotten. I feel enlightened.” Sportacus said cheekily.  
Robbie gave a joking frown. “You started it with your love of crummy pulp romance.”

The two walked back into town, still discussing the merits of really low-grade fluffy stories, neither really finding a middle ground on what made a good romance story.

//

_Calling you names_

“Robbie, why don’t you call me by my real name?” asked Sportacus one day.  
Robbie stopped mid-bite to look at his friend. “What are you talking about? I call you by your name.”  
Sportacus shook his head. “No, you don’t. You always call me some variation of my name.”  
“Like what?” asked Robbie innocently.  
Sportacus shrugged. “Well, off the top of my head, you call me Sportadork, Sportaloon, Sportakook, Sportaflip, Sportanerd, and probably more on a daily basis. Pretty sure you’ve called me some other versions of my name before too.”  
Robbie smirked. “None of those are more ridiculous than your real name, so I figured it was fine.”  
A hurt look crossed Sportacus’s face.  
Robbie’s smile vanished in an instant. “Well, I mean, I didn’t do it to be _mean_. Not necessarily…geez, yeah that does sound bad. Sorry, Sportafl-um, sorry…”

“I mean, it’s fine. I’m not too bothered by the nicknames.” Sportacus said reassuringly. A mischievous smile crossed his face. “It just seems unfair.”  
Robbie looked uneasy. “Unfair, how?”  
“Well, you call me nicknames like that. Maybe I should start coming up with names like that too?” Sportacus said.  
“Oh my gosh, Sportaflop…” Robbie said, shaking his head.  
“I’ll start right now.” Said Sportacus seriously. He grinned. “Floppy Rotten.”  
“That’s just sad. Come on, come up with something better, Sportafreak.” Robbie said, giving him a look.  
“Just getting started, Dopey Rotten.” Sportacus said.  
“Sportalame, you’re really not giving me a run for my money. Maybe that’s why I come up with the nicknames, I’m better at it.” Robbie said smugly.  
“Bop-It Rotten.”  
“Now that just doesn’t make sense.” Robbie said.  
“Poppy Rotten.” Sportacus said, a wide grin on his face.  
Robbie lowered his eyes at the witch. “Are you even trying still?”  
“Nope, at this point I’m seeing which ones you like the least.” Sportacus admitted, the grin persisting.

Robbie gave the witch a sly smile. “You know, it’s not too late for me to change my mind. I could just go back to running you out of LazyTown. I’ve still got some ideas!”  
“Yeah, you could, but then who’d you give silly nicknames to if you’re successful?” asked Sportacus.  
“I could find someone. Don’t give yourself that much credit, Sportaflop.”  
“You already used that one.” Sportacus pointed out.  
Robbie grunted and looked away thoughtfully. “Fine Sporta…Sporta…um…”  
Sportacus smiled. “Running out of ideas?”  
Robbie blushed. “S-Shut up.”  
“I win then.” Grinned Sportacus.  
“Only through being obnoxious.” Robbie said with a forced frown.  
Sportacus shrugged. “Still won.”  
“For now.” Robbie said with a grin. “I’ll get you tomorrow with more nicknames!” he said in a faux, evil tone.  
Sportacus laughed. “Okay, Robbie.” He said, leaning back against the tree. He blinked. “Or, should I say, Moppy?”  
Robbie groaned and returned his attention to his lunch, hiding the amused smirk coaxed out by their exchange.

//

_Practical Magic_

Sportacus cheerily knocked on Robbie’s front door, a thermos full of hot tea in his hands. He couldn’t be more excited; ever since Robbie agreed to try his famous tea blend, he’d spent over a week locating and collecting the ingredients for his favorite blend. It’d been tough, admittedly, with a few ingredients being only available over-seas. But it was finally done, and a thermos full of the sweet brew now sat in his hands.  
He gave the door one more knock. No reply.  
He quirked an eyebrow in confusion. He checked the imaginary watch on his wrist. They did plan for 10 am, right?  
“Robbie?” he called, trying to peer through the window.  
No response.  
He was about to knock once more, before a voice interrupted him.  
“The door’s unlocked, Sportanoisy.”  
Sportacus carefully turned the door knob and walked inside, stopping at the sight in front of him. Multiple scrolls laid unrolled across the floor, their papers yellowed with age and disintegrating from poor storage. Large, heavy tomes sat opened across Robbie’s sewing tables, all of their pages open to varying chapters. An untouched sandwich sat on its plate atop a stack of books. Haninn cawed at Sportacus in a sort of greeting-like gesture, knocking over several smaller books as it flew up to the rafters. In the midst of this mess sat Robbie, cross legged, his back turned to Sportacus.  
  
Sportacus took a tentative step forward, scanning the room’s messy state with concern. He leapt back as another pile of books tumbled to the floor, landing with a loud crash. Robbie didn’t even acknowledge the noise.   
“Hey Robbie, I made tea! Would you like a cup?” Sportacus asked.  
“Busy. Later.” Robbie replied tersely.  
Sportacus’s smile vanished. He gently set the thermos on the table. “You must be very focused on something. Might I ask what?”  
“A magic spell. Needs all of my concentration.” Robbie said, still not turning towards the witch.  
“Very difficult then.” Noted Sportacus. He looked around Robbie, taking a peek at the man’s face. He cringed; dark circles had formed around Robbie’s eyes, and his skin seemed paler than usual. His lips were set into a thin frown, his eyes bloodshot from the ceaseless concentrating. Hovering between his outstretched hands was an orb of pure magic pulsating varying colors, a low hum emanating from the ball.  
“Robbie, how long have you been working on that spell?” asked Sportacus more seriously.  
Robbie gave a short, noncommittal shrug. “Days. A week. Lost count.”  
Sportacus’s eyes grew wide. “Without a break?”  
“Of course not. I break occasionally. Just need to work on this.” Robbie mumbled, a few thin streams of purple magic pouring from his fingertips into the orb.  
Sportacus frowned and looked at the man, his fists on his hips. “Robbie, you need to take breaks more than you seem to have been. It’s not good for you to stay awake so long!”  
“Duly noted. Now let me work on this.” Robbie muttered.  
“Please, Robbie. Just one break?” Sportacus said hopefully.  
“No, Sportacus.” Robbie said firmly.  
“But it’s not good for you!” Sportacus protested.  
“And do you think I care?” Robbie said, finally turning away from the orb to shoot a look at Sportacus. “Now please, just leave. I need to focus on this right now.”  
Sportacus felt his spirits fall. Trying to force a smile, he nodded. “Okay, Robbie. Good luck on your spell.” He said quietly, picking up his thermos and walking back through the door, closing it behind him.

Later that night, Sportacus laid awake on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He glanced down momentarily at his sleeping familiar, a warm smile crossing his face. His attention then turned to the thermos on his end table, untouched and now cold. The smile vanished. It wasn’t like he was hurt by Robbie’s earlier behavior, but he wouldn’t lie that he was disappointed over their cancelled plans and Robbie’s disregard for his own health. He sighed and shut his eyes, hoping that perhaps sleep would just take over for the time.  
Something tapped against his window. He cocked an eye open, spotting a small, purple airplane stuck to the pane.  
Sitting up, he retrieved the little aircraft, unfolding it carefully. Squinting in the dim moonlight, he read the message.

_“Sportasnore,_

_Meet me in the park ASAP_

_-Robbie”_

Sportacus blinked and looked over towards the park. He got up and grabbed his broom. Right before he left for the park, he grabbed the cold thermos.  
Shortly afterwards, he landed near the large oak tree in the middle of the park. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of the blanket laid out in the grass, a few bowls of fruit laying out on its surface. Robbie sat there, looking a little more put together than earlier, cupping something in his hands.  
As Sportacus approached, Robbie gave him a slightly apologetic look.  
“I’m, uh, glad you came.” Robbie said awkwardly.  
Sportacus gave a small smile. “I’m glad you finally took a break.”  
Robbie chuckled. “Yeah, couldn’t go on forever. No matter how much I tried.”   
A pause.  
Robbie shuffled in his place. “So, I have something to show you and I need your opinion on it.” He said.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Something clothing related, or else?”  
“Else. Just watch.” Said Robbie. Peeking one last time between his tightly knit fingers, Robbie took a deep breath and unveiled the much smaller, marble-sized orb in his palm, the ball glowing a faint yellow color. Exhaling, Robbie launched it up into the sky, Sportacus’s eyes following it closely. At first, nothing seemed to happen, other than the marble of magic illuminating the inch of space around it. Then, much to Sportacus’s surprise, the orb split apart, releasing plumes and fountains of bright, colorful magic. The streams wove themselves together, creating images of peacocks, lions, airplanes, and locomotives dancing across the night sky. A rainbow-lit unicorn trotted across the sky while a dragon breathed rivers of bright orange “fire”. Glitter fell from the magical light display, tickling Sportacus’s mustache as he watched in awe. Robbie panted, a half-cocked grin on his face.  
As the display faded into the darkness of the night, Robbie looked at Sportacus anxiously. “What’d you think? I felt it was okay, could be improved upon – “  
“It was magnificent.” Sportacus said in awe.  
Robbie’s cheeks took on a pink color. “Really?”  
Sportacus smiled. “Of course. I’ve never seen magic used that creatively!”  
Robbie scoffed and smirked. “As much as I like flattery, I know that’s a lie. Other magic users _must_ create designs with their magic like that. I can’t be the first.”  
Sportacus shrugged. “First that I know of.” He said. His smile returned. “Doesn’t matter if you’re the first or the millionth though, that was still fantastic.”  
Robbie still seemed unmoved, but a smile cross his face nonetheless. “Thanks, Sportadork.” He looked again at the witch, this time however more sheepishly. “This by the way is why I was pretty, um, rude earlier. Sorry about that. The magic is pretty unstable and if I lost my focus…well, there might’ve not been a house afterwards.”  
“It’s okay Robbie, though you could just tell me that. Trust me, I don’t want my year of discovery to include cleaning up a blast zone.” Sportacus said with a laugh.  
“I was still rude though.” Said Robbie.  
“You were a little.”  
“Wow, Sportaloon. No reassurances there, huh?” Robbie said, laughing.  
“Well, you were! But I understand, sometimes people get wrapped up in projects and don’t act like themselves. Although, most peoples’ side projects don’t run the risk of explosions.” Sportacus said. “What’s all this for anyways?”  
“The Invention Day festival is coming up. Thought I’d bring some magic and pull some crap explanation to cover up the magic element. Just say it’s phenol or something mixed with helium gas.” Robbie said, a yawn punctuating his last sentence.

Sportacus raised a brow in amusement. “I think it might be someone’s bedtime, huh?”  
Robbie shook his head. “No way! I’ve, _*yawn*_ , still got to make it up to you! Why else would I have gathered….gathered all this disgusting… _sportscandy_.” He said groggily.  
“Borrowing my words now?”  
“Your stupidity rubs off on people, what can I say.” Robbie said, swaying a bit in his stance. “Also, I need to try your tea still!”  
“Well, this batch is pretty cold. It won’t taste good.” Sportacus said, lifting up the thermos. “I can always make more tomorrow, if you need to sleep.”  
“Screw sleep, sleep is for the weak. I, Robbie Rotten, _pride_ myself on working on almost no sleep. I’ve done this before, I’ll do it again. I’m not going to let something as stupid as sleep stop me from…from…” Robbie said, his voice growing quieter as he took one step forward, the world tilting and swerving in his vision. Growing dizzy, Robbie felt his body grow heavy, the ground calling to him as his legs buckled underneath him.  
Only through intervention from Sportacus did Robbie avoid having a rude meeting with the earth.  
“You were saying?” Sportacus said with a smile.  
“I was fine. Just closed my eyes for a moment.” Robbie protested.  
Sportacus shook his head and chuckled, before lifting the man up and into his arm, carrying him bridal style. Robbie, despite his sleep-deprived state, wasn’t too foggy to miss the gesture and, subsequently, turned a bright red color. And unless he was hallucinating from lack of sleep (which he figured he was), he could’ve sworn he caught a pink color on Sportacus’s cheeks too.  
“Come on, let’s get you to bed. No use hanging out if you’re about to pass out.” Sportacus said in an almost tender tone. Stepping over the picnic settings, he jogged towards the town. “Don’t worry about the picnic stuff, I’ll clean it up once I get you home.”  
Robbie only gave a half-hearted nod, his vision already fading as he felt himself dragged back towards sleep. The last thing he saw was Sportacus’s face, his eyes focused on the road ahead, before he finally passed out.

Once Sportacus finally reached Robbie’s home, he stopped to look down at the man cradled in his arms. He couldn’t stop an affectionate smile from crossing his face, his cheeks turning a bright pink, as he looked upon the slumbering man, his face pressed against his chest cozily. Sportacus carefully removed the glasses from Robbie’s face, hoping to avoid them jabbing into his face as he slept. Sportacus quietly opened the door and carried him inside, laying him on his bed. Looking around, he found his friend’s favorite cow blanket and tossed it over his sleeping form. Ensuring that he seemed comfy, Sportacus only paused a moment as he listened to Robbie squirm and toss in his sleep, letting out small, indistinct noises. Sportacus looked with worry at the man. He could only hope those were in response to a good dream, and not something much worse.  
For a moment, he considered staying, just in case Robbie was in the middle of a particularly bad nightmare. But he figured that’d be overstepping his boundaries. They were newly friends, after all. Sportacus gave Robbie one last look before the headed out the door, jogging towards the park to gather up the settings for their now postponed makeup picnic.

//

_A Memory of a Dream_

For the last few minutes, all that Robbie could feel was his face being pressed against the warm, soft fabric of his mother’s dress. Usually, this sensation was soothing, but not in this context. The usually comforting, encompassing feeling of the fabric instead was suffocating as he heard his mother’s rapid heartbeat in his ears mixing with the muffled sounds of feet slapping against the wood flooring and the fearful mutterings of his mother. A door slammed above him, and the air grew stale and cold. Robbie whimpered, and he struggled against the vice-like grip his mother had him in, trying his best to get an idea of what was going on.  
He succeeded in creating a small gap between himself and his mother’s chest, enough to look about his surroundings. They were in the basement, that he could tell at least. Much to his surprise, his father was already down there, his gray eyes locked upon the small window built near the crease between the wall and the ceiling.  
“Dad? Momma?” asked Robbie fearfully, his voice being muffled by his mother pressing him once more against her chest.  
Robbie began to protest, until he heard his mother pleadingly hush him, a hand stroking through his hair.  
“Please Robbie, sweetheart, stay quiet for now.” He heard his mother say, her voice shaky and threatening to break.  
Robbie went still. He hated hearing his mother so fearful, and he had an idea as to what was making her so scared. His attention turned to the sounds of his father pacing around the stale aired basement, muttering curses and fearful thoughts to himself.

“Is he still out there?” asked Robbie’s mother.  
“Of course he is. He wouldn’t leave that easily, even once everyone ran inside.” His father responded.  
A pause.   
“Damnit, why couldn’t they just leave us alone? Don’t they have worse faeries to deal with than us? And he’s still out there, smugly flying on his broom. He must _adore_ tormenting us, scaring us half out of our wits.” Robbie heard his father say, his own father’s voice growing fanatically giddy as he spoke, wavering dangerously close to hysteria.  
“Perhaps he’ll just leave again like he did earlier. Eventually he’ll realize that he won’t find what he’s looking for here. We’re a peaceful court, and no one here’s caused trouble for many years. We aren’t worth their time.” Said his mother in a soothing voice.  
Robbie’s father snorted. “Sure. And maybe while they’re at it, they’ll send us a fruit basket as an apology. Daimhin, be serious. You know what those witches do, and with one this close, we’re running out of time! They’ll burn everything to the ground!”  
“Glanni! Please! You’re scaring Robbie!” hissed Robbie’s mother.  
Robbie finally pulled away from his mother’s chest, looking up at her in fear. “Momma, what’s going on? Is the witch back?”  
Daimhin’s eyes looked at her son sadly, giving him a single nod as she continued to stroke her son’s head.

Robbie looked up toward the window, straining to get a peek at the accursed and much feared witch. He squeaked as a pair of tanned boots suddenly stomped down in front of the window, him instinctively pulling closer to his mother’s chest. His mom covered his head and squeezed him even closer, the gossamer shimmer of her wings visible as she wrapped her wings around her child like another protective shield. Glanni stood guard, his eyes fixed in an angry glare at the window, his fingers twiddling above the small sword hanging at his hip. The feet paced around their home, the tips of dry branches from his broom visible to Robbie. The pacing continued for minutes. Agonizingly long minutes that felt like hours. Robbie’s heart beat in his ears.  
Finally, thankfully, the witch turned away, the edges of his crimson cape being all that Robbie could see of him.  
The tension laxed, and Daimhin released her hold on her son ever so slightly. Robbie shivered in her arms, looking up at her fearfully for some form of reassurance.  
All Daimhin did was release a long-held breath, looking tearfully at her husband. “Do you think he’s leaving?” she asked.  
Glanni shook his head, his attention still fixed on the window. “No, he’s just disregarded our house for now. We still need to be quiet.”  
Daimhin nodded solemnly, her wings still wrapped around her son.  
Robbie looked up at his mother. “Momma, why does the witch hate us so much? Why does he…he…want to hurt us?” he asked.  
Daimhin looked down at her son in shock. “Your school hasn’t taught you yet?”  
Robbie shook his head. “They keep mentioning it, but they don’t say much. It seems to make Ms. Aisling nervous.”  
“Makes sense. Nobody likes to discuss _death_ and _hatred_ and _massacres_ in primary schools.” Noted Glanni.  
“Glanni.” Said Daimhin, shooting a look at her husband. She looked at her son sadly, giving him a weak smile. “I feared this may be the case. Listen closely sweetheart, because this tale is long and…confused.”

Letting go of her son, Daimhin cupped her hands, whispering short, ancient words. Her hands began to glow a faint, yellow color. She parted her hands, revealing a small group of silhouetted people, all standing in a circle. Robbie looked in awe at the display of his mother’s magic.  
“Long ago, in order to protect the humans of our planet, all of the _huldúfolk_ convened and created a council of magic users. Each year, they would congregate, discussing and addressing issues of magical balance, assigning certain races to handle more pertinent issues.”  
“Several hundred years before our time, the council convened to determine how to handle a most pressing matter. Many members of the Unseelie Fae, half of the faerie race, had been recorded establishing illegitimate deals with unsuspecting humans. Deals that the humans could not uphold and keep, either through physical impossibility, or loopholes that the Unseelie would establish unbeknownst to the human. This resulted in whole human villages vanishing or being destroyed overnight, with the malicious Unseelie faerie and/or their court making like bandits, their hands drenched with blood but filled with money and power.”  
“This, of course, was unacceptable, and threw out the magic balance. So, the council assigned one race of _huldúfolk_ , a race who before had neutral interactions with the fae, to search out and either arrest or annihilate these criminal Unseelie fae. Humans were instructed to write to their kingdom when a known deal with an Unseelie faerie was made. The elves would investigate and if the deal was ill-written or the faerie and/or its court was associated with unsavory deals, the battalions would capture or kill the faerie and, at times, its court.”  
“Which race, Momma?” asked Robbie.  
“Elves.” Hissed Glanni, his attention still turned to the window, the word almost sounding like poison on his tongue.  
“For many centuries, this decision worked well. Malicious Unseelie faeries and, at times, their courts were punished accordingly for taking advantage of unsuspecting and naïve humans. That is, until things grew much more…grave.” Said Daimhin, the images she produced growing a sicklier, yellow color. “Reports flooded in that peaceful Unseelie courts and faeries were being attacked and killed by elven squadrons. Unseelie courts and faeries that made deals with humans that were, all together, fair. Unseelie courts and faeries that never associated with humans. All were wiped out if found by the elves. The faerie kingdom sent these reports to the magic council, but the elven kingdom would always say they found proof. Proof of ill-deals, proof of hatred against humans. So nothing was done. And the faerie queen stopped sending the reports. All the while, the elves employed witches to root out hidden courts, increasing their kills. That’s all we know now.”  
Robbie shuddered, letting a small whimper escape him. “But why, Momma? Why would the elves kill innocent faeries? Why would they come after us? We didn’t do anything wrong, and we’re nice people! Why do they hate us?”  
“Because they think we’re all monsters, Robbie!” Glanni snapped, his furry, moth-like wings flaring out, revealing the pink, circular designs that emulated eyes on their insides.  
Robbie shrunk back.  
“The elves hate all Unseelie faeries. After centuries of fighting and killing, it only makes sense. They think we’re all monsters that are just determined to wipe out all of those miserable humans, so they’re taking care of the issue before it starts. Now they’re targeting courts like ours, even though all we want is for them to leave us be! Even though there are innocent Seelie fae present! Even with children like _you_ here!” Glanni said angrily, panting as he finished. His hardened glare softened as he looked upon the trembling form of his son, curled up in his mother’s lap. Daimhin looked at Glanni disappointedly, shaking her head as tears welled up in her eyes.

Glanni fell to his knees and shuffled closer to his wife. He looked apologetically at his son. “I’m sorry, Robbie. I…I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”  
Robbie sniffed. “It’s okay, dad. I’m just…I’m just scared.”  
Glanni hugged his wife and son. “We all are, kiddo.” He said quietly. He looked at his wife sadly. “I’m so sorry, Daimhin. I’ve tried so hard to protect us, but they found us. They found everyone we care about. I’ve failed our family.” He said, tears welling in his eyes.  
Daimhin gave Glanni a weak smile and pressed a kiss against his lips. “This isn’t your fault, dear. We tried our hardest to live peacefully and quietly, but it appears nothing we could’ve done could’ve appeased them. We just need to prepare ourselves the best we can.”  
Glanni nodded. “You’re right. I’ll find the captain of the guard. Perhaps I can encourage him to double the patrols and number of guards.”  
“Would he do that?”   
Glanni grinned. “I’ve got some extra coin. That might encourage him a little.”  
Daimhin rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Bribery? I swear Glanni, even now, you’re still my dastardly Unseelie.”  
Glanni gave a small smile. “Only when I need to protect my family now, sadly. Not quite the criminal I used to be. It’s not conducive to having a stable family.” He said, walking towards the steps.  
  
Daimhin looked down at her son. “Now Robbie, I need you to listen closely. You remember what I told you about witches?”  
“To never trust them?” said Robbie.  
Daimhin nodded. “Yes, that is right. While not all witches work with the elves, many do. So be wary around them.” She looked at him seriously. “But whatever you do, never, **never** , trust an elf. No matter what they say, or do, or what you feel. Don’t trust one. For your safety, you must remember that. Do you understand?”  
Robbie looked away fearfully, committing his mother’s words to memory. He nodded. “I understand, Momma.”  
Daimhin gave him a weak smile and hugged her son. “Thank you, sweetheart.”  
“Will we be okay, Momma?” he asked, hugging her back.  
Daimhin sighed. “I can only hope so. We just need to be much more careful, from now on.” She said, stroking her son’s head once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another chapter in less than a week? Indeed, it's a Christmas miracle. Hopefully the quick update doesn't mean this chapter's quality is poor. And not to spoil anything or make anyone uneasy, but I'll say this is the second to last mostly fluffy chapter for a while. Not saying things are going to be bad, per say, but things are gonna get...interesting.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this! Thank you for reading!


	11. Split Second

“Alright, here’s another good one: if you were a candy bar, which one would you be? That sounds right up your alley, Robbie!”  
“Sportadork, just because I eat candy like no one’s business doesn’t mean this question won’t be any less painful than the other ones.”  
Sportacus frowned and looked up from his icebreaker book. “Aww, come on Robbie! You were the one who brought up doing icebreakers again. I figured you’d at least be into this!”  
“I only brought it up because I knew the library would want that book back and I figured if we’d already gotten through eight pages, we might as well finish a few more.” Robbie noted with a shrug. “Also, I guess I’d be a…Snickers bar. Because they’re my favorite.”  
Sportacus grinned. “I’m guessing they taste pretty good then!”  
“You know, you never did tell me why you don’t eat candy. Not like you need to lay off the sweets or anything.” Robbie said, stopping as he realized he’d just complimented Sportacus’s figure.  
Sportacus chuckled. “Sweets just make me feel sick. I’m not that good at processing sugar I suppose.” He said.   
Robbie cleared his throat. “Well, isn’t your existence just awful then? I can’t imagine not being able to eat sweets.”  
Sportacus laughed. “Well, luckily I prefer healthy food anyways, so I don’t really feel tempted to try eating sugar anyways.”  
“Well aren’t you just a Mister Health Nut. That’s why you’re no fun to have lunches with.” Robbie said with a smirk.  
“Yet you still have lunch with me most days?”   
Robbie’s smirk vanished. “Only because I can make my own lunch. Don’t have to search through the menu a million times to find something that won’t upset your stomach.”

“Fair enough.” Sportacus said, taking a bite from his veggie sandwich. Chewing thoughtfully, he glanced over the questions. “Hmm, let’s see. Pick something out of your bag or pocket and explain why it’s important to you.”  
Robbie gave Sportacus a look before fishing through his pockets. He came up with a fistful of lint. “This is my best friend, Linty. He helps me through tough days and we’ve been inseparable ever since I dug him out of the laundry when I was five.” He said sarcastically.  
Sportacus scrunched his nose at the book, smiling and shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s a dumb question.”  
“VERY dumb question.” Robbie said. “Besides, wasn’t it my turn to ask you a question?”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and a blush covered his cheeks. “Right! Sorry, guess I got caught up asking you questions.” He handed the book to his friend.  
Robbie flipped through a few pages, skimming over the mostly inane and stupid questions before he placed a finger on the one he wanted. He grinned devilishly. “Ah, now we get to the juicy questions. What’s your greatest fear, Sportaloon?”  
Sportacus seemed taken aback. He crooked the corner of his mouth and looked away in thought. He drummed his fingers against the ground as he prepared his answer. “I’ve, um, never been a fan of enclosed spaces. Probably why I’m okay with flying on my broom, rather than an airplane. I just don’t like the idea of being trapped in something small and closed off. And, well, I don’t like being restrained.”  
Robbie raised an eyebrow at that second statement. “You don’t? How’d you find that one out?”  
Sportacus laughed uneasily. “My friends and I were playing a sort of cops and robbers type of game and I was a robber. They tied me up, but forgot to untie me before lunch. So, I was stuck in a field for hours, unable to move. Guess it’s similar to why I don’t like enclosed spaces. I just don’t like that feeling of helplessness.”  
Robbie paled a little at Sportacus’s story. “You know, after something like that, I’m a little surprised that you still call those kids your friends.”  
Sportacus shrugged. “What can you do? Everyone forgets things at times.”  
“Yes, but most people don’t forget about their friend for hours, especially not when he’s tied up in some random field.” Robbie stated, a hint of anger in his voice.  
Sportacus was taken aback by Robbie’s statement. “It’s okay, you know? I’m fine now.”  
“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t okay.” Mumbled Robbie.  
Sportacus grinned. “Why Robbie, you _do_ care about me!” he said, cupping his face in an exaggerated show of astonishment.  
Robbie gave him a warning look, partially weakened by the small smile on his face. “Don’t you start with that, Sportaflop!”  
Sportacus smirked and looked innocently at his friend. “What? I’m just so happy that you care so much!”  
“Yeah, well you don’t have to be so over-the-top about it.” Robbie said with an eyeroll.  
Sportacus smiled. “Okay, Robbie.”

Robbie prepared to hand the book back to Sportacus, when the witch asked, “What are you scared of?”  
Robbie paused. He looked away, considering whether or not to be truthful with the witch. He sighed and decided that, hey, if they were friends then technically saying what he was scared of wouldn’t result in anything too bad, right?   
“I’m scared of heights.” Robbie admitted quietly.  
Sportacus blinked. “Really?”  
Robbie nodded. “Yeah, gives me the willies. You said you don’t like the feeling of being trapped? Well I don’t like being up where one false step means plummeting to your death.”  
“I mean, if you’re careful, then not necessarily.” Said Sportacus.  
“Regardless.” Robbie said flatly. “It’s why I don’t get how you’re so comfortable flying on that wooden death stick.” He said, pointing to Sportacus’s broom.  
Sportacus picked up his broom. “This? It’s much safer than you think, Robbie!”  
Robbie snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” He retorted.  
Big mistake.  
Sportacus grinned. “Alright, then maybe you should fly on it? I’ll take you up with me!”  
Whatever remained of Robbie’s smirk vanished in an instant once Sportacus’s suggestion hit his ears. He forced an uneasy smile and looked at Sportacus. “You know, I don’t think my ears are working this morning, because I could’ve sworn you just suggested – “  
“That we go flying together?” Sportacus said.  
Robbie nodded. “Ah. Okay, ears are still working. Good. Then, I’ll just prepare my response. What’re the right words? Oh yes.” He said, then gave Sportacus a look. “You are insane.”  
Sportacus smiled. “I’m serious, Robbie! It’s not like you’re flying my broom alone! I’ll control it, all you have to do is hang on!”  
“You have quite the talent at making flying hundreds of feet off the ground on cleaning supplies sound mundane and easy, did you know that?” Robbie said with a chuckle.  
“I know it doesn’t sound easy or safe.” Sportacus said.  
“Just proving my point, Sportadummy.”  
“But I really think you should at least give it one try.” Sportacus said. A warm smile crossed his face. “Just think about it. The sky’s supposed to be clear tonight. We could fly then. Just a nice, relaxed flight through the air, up with the stars and the moon. It really is quite lovely up there, almost serene.” he asked hopefully.  
The tension in Robbie’s shoulders loosened. From the way Sportacus described it, the flight did sound somewhat…nice. Take out the flying part and the witch almost described a perfect outing for Robbie. And Robbie couldn’t lie that the whole scenario did sound rather appealing. Just him and Sportacus, away from the town. Up near the stars together. Robbie’s cheeks turned a shade of pink as he thought of how, invariably, romantic the situation seemed. He cleared his throat and willed away the thoughts. Just friends, just friends.

“Fine Sportakook, but I swear if you let me fall whatever pieces of me that’re leftover will chase you out of town for good.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus laughed. “It’s a deal then.”  
As Sportacus returned his attention to his lunch, Robbie took the time to settle with the realization of what he agreed to. He took one more bite out of his sandwich before putting it to the side. Suddenly, lunch didn’t seem so appealing.

\--

Pixel found Stephanie outside, skipping over her jump rope right outside her house. He looked at her nervously, giving her a shaky smile when she finally noticed him, giving him a friendly wave.  
“Hey Pixel!” she chirped happily.  
“H-Hi Stephanie! How’s it going?” asked Pixel.  
“Great! I’m so excited for tonight! I can’t wait to watch the fireflies with you!” Stephanie said cheerily.  
Pixel gave a single, uneasy laugh. “Well, I’m glad! But, I have to tell you something – “  
“You said there’d be _billions_ of fireflies, right? I’ve never seen one, so billions would be amazing!”  
“Well, I think it’s statistically impossible for there to be _that_ many fireflies in LazyTown’s fields, but at least several hundred is feasible! But Stephanie, I have to – “  
“Hundreds is still fantastic! Oh, I’m so excited! I dug out my special picnic blanket, and I’m going to make some hot chocolate for us both! I also asked Uncle if I could borrow his polaroid – “  
“Stephanie, I’m really sorry, but I can’t go.” Pixel finally said with a cringe.

Stephanie’s smile faded. “What? What happened?”  
Pixel rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I thought tonight was open for me, but apparently the Mayor needs me at the hangar tonight to work more on the engine!”  
“But I thought the parts hadn’t arrived yet! Uncle told me they weren’t going to be delivered until Thursday!”  
“That’s what I thought too.” Pixel said disappointedly. He sighed. “I’m really sorry, Stephanie. I-I’d usually just tell the Mayor that I’m busy, but he sounded like he really needs me tonight. The weather conditions are supposed to be good this weekend, perfect for our first engine test, and it needs to be done by then.”  
Stephanie bit her lip and nodded. She gave her friend a small smile. “I understand. I know this plane is super important to Uncle, so you should help him!”  
“I know, but I promised I’d take you to see the fireflies! This’ll be the first night of the year that they’re around! It’s super special!” said Pixel.  
“We could always see them another night?” suggested Stephanie.  
Pixel nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not the same.” He said sadly.

Around the time that Pixel cancelled his plans with Stephanie, Trixie happened to walk around the corner. Seeing the pair, she ducked behind the brick wall and listened closely. She heard the disappointment in Stephanie’s voice as Pixel gave his reasons for ducking out of their plans. It was then that she realized an opportunity had presented itself. She carefully pulled the crumpled and wrinkly letter out of her pocket. It was almost gift wrapped, the opportunity so perfect that Trixie couldn’t help but gleefully smile. Finally, a moment with Stephanie that maybe, just maybe, she could finally give her the carefully worded letter. She stuffed the letter back into her pocket and continued to listen.  
“It’s really okay, Pixel. Don’t feel too bad, this project’s been going on for a long time! I know Uncle’s pretty antsy to get it done.”  
“I know. I’m still upset we can’t go.” Pixel said.   
A voice rang out through the distance. Kaya was calling.  
“That’s my mom, I better go see what’s up.” Pixel said, turning on his heel. As he prepared to run, he stopped for just another moment. “Hey, to make it up to you, would you like to get lunch sometime? We could go to the diner across town?”  
Stephanie scrunched her nose. “I don’t know, Mr. Ehrman is kind of a grump, don’t you think?”  
Pixel grinned. “Yeah, but he likes me, so we can get a discount there! Plus, they have the best biscuits and gravy in LazyTown!”  
Stephanie smiled. “Alright, we’ll give it a try then!”  
Pixel waved and ran off, leaving Stephanie once again with her jump rope.

Once Pixel was finally out of sight, Trixie decided to make her move. Steeling her nerves, she walked up to Stephanie, who had yet to notice the pig-tailed girl. Stuffing one hand into the pocket with the letter inside, Trixie prepared to tap Stephanie’s shoulder, not remembering that the pink-haired girl had been in the middle of a serious session of jump-roping. For her oversight, she earned a slap from the rope to her chin.  
“Ouch!” cried Trixie, rubbing the sore spot under her chin.  
Immediately, Stephanie stopped and turned towards the sound, looking mortified as she realized what happened.  
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, Trixie! Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.  
Trixie froze, then immediately shifted emotions. She cleared her throat and grinned, ignoring the stinging welt on her chin. “H-Heh, yeah! No big deal, Pinky! I’ve gotten worse!”  
Stephanie felt relieved. “Thank goodness! My uncle said people have gotten hit in the eye before with jump-ropes! I’m glad that didn’t happen to you.”  
Trixie shrugged. “If it did, no big deal still! I wouldn’t let a silly jump rope bother me.”  
Stephanie quietly chuckled. She placed a hand on her hip. “So, is something up? Other then getting hit by my jump rope?”  
“Nothing, what’s it to you?” Trixie instinctively said. Flushing a bright pink, she attempted to backpedal. “Uh, I mean, I wanted to…um, ask you something.”  
Stephanie looked surprised. “Oh?”  
Trixie shuffled her feet and looked away. “Well, I was, um, thinking of going to watch the fireflies. And, you know, it’s kind of lame to watch them by yourself. So, I thought, if you aren’t too busy or anything…”  
“If I’d like to come along?” said Stephanie.  
Trixie’s cheeks burned a brighter pink. “I mean, unless that’s too lame for you! Then I get it!”  
Stephanie smiled warmly. “No, it’s not lame at all! I’ve actually been wanting to go see them! I was supposed to go with Pixel, but he had to cancel.”  
Trixie gave a half-smile. “Well, if you’re game, want to meet around seven? Should be dark enough by then.”  
Stephanie gave a nod. “Sure! I’ll see you then!”

Trixie gave a relieved smile. “Uh, okay! Seven! See you then. I’ll, uh, yeah…see you.” She said, feeling her usual, cool demeanor fumble. As soon as Stephanie turned back to her jump-roping, Trixie dashed around the corner. Once she was sure no one was around to hear her, she let out an excited squeal and danced in her spot. She skipped all the way home, her mind a flurry with thoughts of preparation and a few misplaced worries.

\--

Robbie glanced up at the clock. Only another hour before he’d meet up with Sportacus for their planned flight. He looked back at the mirror, adjusting his tie for the umpteenth time in a row. He cleaned his glasses one more time, and smoothed his hair back. Haninn gave him a single, hearty crow before he snuggled back into his nest. Robbie gave him a disinterested look before turning back to the mirror. He frowned. One of his cufflinks seemed slightly askew. He adjusted it again.

Usually, Robbie wouldn’t be this persnickety about his appearance. Granted, he did put a bit of pride into his outward appearance, but this little routine of checking every square inch for anything out of line was excessive even by his standards. Then again, Robbie didn’t mind it. Anything to take his mind off the two things stressing him out at the minute.

The first being the flight itself. Robbie wasn’t the biggest fan of heights. Not necessarily the flying part, but the potential of falling and splattering against the ground. The mental image of him plummeting off the broom, turning into a purplish-black splat on the ground sent shivers up his spine. He tried to shake off the thoughts, but all the what-ifs running through his mind weren’t doing him any favors. He went back to brushing his eyebrows back into their perfect shapes.

The other was Sportacus. Robbie himself knew that the two had made commendable progress over the last month or so and had become, against all odds, decent friends. They had lunch together often, hung out whenever both weren’t working. They even shared a few laughs and talked about their lives with each other, something Robbie had never done with anyone previously. And for the person to break that streak to be a _witch_? Well, Robbie figured a flying shark riding a flaming motorcycle would be more probable. Yet here they were. Nevertheless, even though their relationship had improved tremendously, Robbie still felt unsure of whether or not to make the first move. His crush had, against his small, barely acknowledged hopes, only grew the more he spent time with the witch. And lately, despite his best efforts, it was driving him nuts.

That small voice in the back of his head still was warning him. Urging him to try and drop the whole idea all together.   
“ _Nothing other than heartbreak is guaranteed. Besides, you remember what momma said? Don’t trust those witches_.” It’d say.  
Robbie would consider its words every now and then. Then, he’d remember that technically he’d already foregone his mother’s warnings by even acknowledging and accepting his crush. He could already imagine how his mom would’ve given him a loud lecture for befriending Sportacus, telling him how he was dangerous and a threat and so forth.  
Well, he was still here. And he couldn’t possibly be so important that a witch would wait over a month to destroy him or the town. As much as he held his mother’s words as important, Robbie pondered over the possibility that, maybe, things could be different.  
He still wasn’t completely sure. After all, Sportacus could just be an exception. But that all was a different matter for another time.  
At the moment, all Robbie could think about was their planned flight up near the stars. Sportacus seemed to emphasize just how beautiful it was to fly at night.  
Robbie momentarily pictured how Sportacus would look framed by moonlight. A glow of silver framing the sparse golden locks that escaped that dumb, blue cap. The shine of impossibly blue eyes. A smile that left him feeling cozy and warm.

Blushing brightly, he turned his attention back to straightening out his jacket. Not much longer now.

\--

Trixie frowned and put aside another compact of eyeshadow, looking at herself in the mirror. None of her mother’s colors seemed to work for her skin tone, and it was annoying her. She dug through her makeup bag once more, sifting through the more neutral tones. Those looked to boring to the young girl; she figured the more fun colors would translate to a better look. After all, if she could find her favorite color, it’d obviously be the right one for her. Right?  
Grinning, she dug out a palette of reds and oranges. Popping it open, she stuck her finger in the makeup and smeared it onto her eyelids. It was the only time in her life that Trixie cursed her lacking interest in cosmetics and fashion. The girls in the magazines always made it look so easy, why couldn’t she get it? Admittedly, she probably could just go without makeup to meet Stephanie. But if those teen magazines she swiped from the drugstore told her anything, appearance was key when talking with your crush. And Trixie figured she’d need all the help she could get.  
She set the palette aside after smudging some orange onto her inner eye. Blinking, she looked at herself in the mirror. She immediately recoiled. She looked like a Cheeto bag had exploded on her face.  
Angrily, she snatched another makeup wipe from the container, rubbing the makeup off furiously. She threw the wipe to the side and glared at the mirror, looking at her irritated skin and watery eyes. She felt like giving up at that moment, giving a hearty farewell to the very idea of getting her look right.

Then she thought of Stephanie. Her sitting next to her in the grassy fields, maybe holding her hand. Her bright smile. The way her pink hair glowed in the light of the moon and fireflies.  
Trixie’s anger subsided. She looked at herself and sighed, reaching for another palette. This one was more purplish in tones, with some blue accents. Perhaps the opposite color would be a better pick?  
As she applied more makeup, she didn’t catch the clock’s big hand moving towards the six, and the sun dipping below the horizon.

\--

Seven o’clock.

That’s what she said right? Seven o’clock.

Stephanie checked her watch again. 7:45.

She sighed, and shuffled in her spot, brushing away a few gnats and mosquitoes.

Occasionally she looked over her shoulder towards the town, still searching for any sign of the pig-tailed girl.

\--

Sportacus stopped at Robbie’s front stoop, readying himself before he knocked on the door. He glanced down at his scarf, its purple now slightly discolored from neglectful washing, its charms still humming strongly against his chest, emitting tiny whistles and chimes of delight. He gave the tails of his scarf a firm tug, securing the knot near his neck. He sighed and smiled excitedly, rocking back and forth on his heels as he gave the door a firm knock.  
He hadn’t been sure earlier whether or not Robbie would’ve accepted his invitation for an evening flight. Given the man’s early apprehension over his status as a witch, he figured the invitation would be a long shot. That shot only seemed even more impossible after he’d revealed his fear of heights, and Sportacus wasn’t sure if he’d blown it after emphasizing the beauty of the sky. Was that a bit much, or perhaps too flowery? But much to his surprise, Robbie accepted. And now he was standing at his stoop, broom in hand, ready to give him the first flight he’s ever done with two people. Admittedly, Sportacus himself felt a twinge of nervousness. He had to assure himself that flying with two people wouldn’t be much different than flying on his own, and that being so close to someone he had feelings for _wouldn’t_ be an issue for him. Nope, not at all, he told himself, despite the blush growing on his cheeks.

Those thoughts were brushed aside as soon as Robbie opened the door. Sportacus near immediately noticed that the man who, while usually dressed immaculately, was even more dressed up than usual. Or at the least had paid even closer attention to ensuring the details were all in order. Of course, those were just passing observations as Sportacus looked at Robbie, being near taken in by the man’s eyes. In the moonlight, the grays of his irises near glowed a haunting silver with tinges of blue. Mesmerizing would be the word Sportacus would use to describe them, if he wasn’t currently trying to fight back the urge to go slack-jawed at his friend’s appearance.  
He steeled himself up once more and put on his most casual smile. “Wow, Robbie! You look great!” he said cheerily as usual, all the while fighting the swirling adoration in his chest.  
Robbie seemed surprised. He averted his eyes as he shrugged. “Thanks, but it’s not like I dressed much different than usual. Just added a tie.”  
 “Well, you still look good!” Sportacus said.   
Robbie smirked. “Thanks, Sportaflop.”  
Sportacus smirked back. “You’re welcome, Spobby.”  
Robbie fought back a warm smile and forced a frown. “Are we going to get on that stupid thing or are you just going to start another round of strange nicknames?” he said, pointing towards Sportacus’s broom.  
Sportacus nodded. “Of course! Are you ready?”  
Robbie shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”  
Sportacus straddled the broom, scooching up further on the broom than usual. He patted the space behind him, motioning Robbie over, urging him to copy his stance. It was when Robbie found himself straddling a witch’s broomstick that he realized how little stable material there was and just how little there was to hold onto. A wave of anxiety swept over him, and he could hear his heart beat in his chest. A few beads of sweat began to build on his forehead as he couldn’t stop himself from imagining the flight several hundred feet in the air, this thin rod of wood the only thing between himself and open air.  
“Robbie? Are you okay?” asked Sportacus worriedly.  
Robbie shook himself out of his panicked daze and grunted at the witch. “Yeah, sure! J-Just get this thing up in the air already!” he said roughly, trying to wave off any concern.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “You’re gripping the broomstick so firmly, you’re white-knuckling.” He said quietly.  
Robbie glanced down, seeing that indeed the tension in his fists had built to the point of his knuckles growing white.  
“We don’t have to fly tonight if you’re not ready.” Sportacus said reassuringly.

Robbie bit his lip, considering the option. Sucking in a breath, he shook his head. “Just get it flying! The longer we stay on the ground, the more chances you’re giving me to change my mind!”   
Sportacus nodded slowly. “We’ll just take it easy, okay? If this gets too much for you, just say stop and I’ll float us back to the ground.” He said. Standing up and looking forward, Sportacus tapped his right heel against his left, urging the broom to start floating. Immediately the broom shifted upwards, hovering a few feet off the ground.  
Robbie instantly began to feel the vertigo. He teetered in his spot and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to look down.   
“Oh gods…” he muttered.   
For a moment, he pondered just how willing he was to go through with this just for the slim chance of having a moment with the witch.  
Sportacus looked back, seeing how the man clenched himself around the broomstick. Cautiously he reached back, placing a hand on Robbie’s arm. He nearly pulled back as he felt the man flinch, turning his head up in alarm, a bright pink on his face.  
“Robbie, have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?” asked Sportacus as calmly as he could.  
Robbie frowned and shook his head, looking at the witch curiously.  
Sportacus nodded. “Well, just think of it like that if you can. If you need stability, just hang onto me.” He smiled. “I promise I don’t bite.”  
“How am I supposed to imagine something if I’ve never experienced it?” Robbie asked grumpily.  
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got it. You come up with so many great clothing ideas, you could probably imagine riding a motorcycle.” Sportacus said.  
Robbie rolled his eyes. “Not the same thing, Sportadork. Besides, I just got dizzy because you flew up too fast.”  
“We’re only four feet above the ground, Robbie.” Sportacus said with a small smile.  
Robbie looked away embarrassedly, grumbling to himself.  
Sportacus looked at the man in understanding. “It’s okay, Robbie. Don’t be afraid to hold on if you change your mind, okay?” he said.   
He kicked his heels together again, and the broom slowly began its ascent. Robbie gripped the broom tighter as he felt the air press against his face, a feeling warm yet accented by a distant coolness. Momentarily he glanced off to the side, watching the familiar windows dip below him, the rooftops growing closer to his fingertips. He leaned slightly to his right, eying the roof’s edges warily. Sportacus looked back and smiled reassuringly at the man.  
“Go ahead. We’re not flying fast enough for it to hurt.” He said.  
Robbie looked at Sportacus, then back at the roof. Cautiously, he reached out towards the roof, feeling its course texture under his fingers. He shuddered, and a small, elated smile broke onto his face.   
“See? There you go, Robbie.” Sportacus said approvingly.  
Robbie forced away his smile as he hmphed and rolled his eyes at the witch. “I knew it’d be fine, Sportafluff.” He said, averting his eyes.  
Sportacus just chuckled and shook his head, looking forward to steer the broom.

The two flew threw the city’s streets, hovering up at the rooftop level towards the grassy fields. Robbie felt the air brush some of his hair out of place, and he quickly released one hand to brush it back before returning to grip the broomstick tightly. He gulped and stared ahead, not wanting to look down and let the vertigo overtake him. Not that the alternate view was bad though. He was instead treated to the sight of rows of windows glowing a bright yellow in the darkness, their glow pooling off onto the brick work of the exteriors. Darkened silhouettes played a sort of puppet show against the illuminated walls, giving hints to the activities inside. A woman brushing her hair. A man reading a newspaper. Two children playing with their dog. Two lovers bracing together for a passionate kiss.  
Robbie blushed and looked away from the silhouettes. He instead looked up at the night sky, peering between the clouds to catch glimpses of the twinkling stars that shone above. He let a small, half-smile slip onto his face as he admired the beauty of the celestial bodies. Sometimes, he swore he could see the dying and dead stars of centuries ago still woven into the galactic quilt, like the ones from his dream.   
Sportacus had seen Robbie’s awe and, trying to stop himself said. “If you’re ready, we can fly a little higher,” a quietness underscoring his voice. Robbie looked over, and could’ve sworn he spotted a pink enveloping his cheeks.  
Robbie blinked, realizing what the witch meant. “Um, maybe in a minute. Still adjusting to this height.” He said uneasily.  
Sportacus nodded. “Okay, sounds good. How about we reach the edge of town and we’ll fly up?”  
Robbie nervously nodded his approval.  
Sportacus smiled. “Okay, that’s what we’ll do then.” He said, pointing his broom towards a side street as Robbie sighed in relief.

\--

Stephanie leaned back against her hands, sighing as she looked at her watch once more. The watch’s hands clicked over to the next numbers. Eight o’clock. Stephanie shook her head. At this point, it seemed that Trixie was never going to show up. She looked disappointedly towards the town. Granted, she’d still get a chance to see the fireflies, but she hadn’t planned to watch them alone. It was a little sad being on her own in the middle of LazyTown’s fields. And she’d been hoping to watch them with someone. She grabbed her thermos of hot chocolate and poured herself a cup, sipping on it slowly. A flicker of green caught her eye. The first firefly had flown up into the sky.

She smiled, and looked around carefully, searching for any sight of the little glowing bugs. She cupped her cup in her hands and leaned forward. Two more lightning bugs flew up, swirling around each other in a corkscrew fashion. A third one flew up slowly behind them, trailing them closely. Stephanie watched the three closely, almost missing the sound of crunching grass and rocks behind her.  
She turned around, her eyes widening as she spotted the approaching figure.  
“Pixel??” she said in surprise.  
Pixel smiled, wiping his hands off on his pants once more. “Hey Stephanie!”  
Stephanie stood to her feet, a delighted smile crossing her face. “W-What are you doing here? I thought Uncle needed you tonight!”  
“He did, but we made enough progress and he heard that I had to cancel on you, so he let me go early!” Pixel said happily.  
Stephanie grinned. “Well, that’s great! I was supposed to meet Trixie here instead, but she didn’t show up. I was worried I’d have to watch the fireflies by myself!” she said, ushering Pixel towards her blanket.

Pixel raised an eyebrow and slowly sat himself down. “Trixie? You’re going to meet with her?”   
Stephanie nodded. "Well, I _was_ going to meet with her. She hasn't shown up yet, and it's been an hour."  
Pixel's eyes widened. "Really? That is pretty late."  
"I know." Stephanie said, her eyes drifting towards the ground.  
Pixel looked at friend with concern. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry that she didn't show up. That really isn't cool."  
Stephanie looked up and gave a weak smile. "Thanks, but that's not what's bothering me." she said with a sigh. "Pixel, have you noticed how Trixie acts around me?"  
"Like how?"  
"I don't know." Stephanie said. "She just acts...different around me. She's usually so tough, right? Always puts up a front, yet she seems less...less..."  
"Abrasive?" suggested Pixel.  
"Sort of." Stephanie answered. She shook her head. "I just don't know. Did I do something wrong? Sometimes she acts normally around me. She'll pull pranks and all that. But other times she acts like this morning. She seemed really nervous around me."  
Pixel's eyes widened again and he nodded. "Ah."  
Stephanie looked at her friend expectantly. "So, what do you think is up? Am I making her feel awkward? Did I say something wrong?"  
Pixel shrugged. "Well no...I mean I have a hunch. Don't know if it's right."  
Stephanie leaned forward. "Even if it isn't right, I'd like some ideas."  
Pixel sighed and nodded. "One day Trixie came to my moms’ shop and bought some stationary. Pink, with butterflies. And she was acting all funny when I asked her about it, and my mom was giving her that look she sometimes gives to people.”  
“That look?”  
Pixel looked away sheepishly. “You know, that _look_. The ones that moms give when they know something’s up?”  
Stephanie nodded. “Oh yeah. My mom used to give me that look every now and then.” She looked back at her friend. "But _the look_ can mean lots of things. What do you think she meant by that specific look?"  
Pixel shrugged awkwardly. "Well, usually, it means...well, it's a little...I don't want to be wrong..."

Stephanie waited, thinking as her friend bumbled about with his words, until her cheeks flushed a bright pink, her eyes widening. "Wait..."  
Pixel paused. "What?"  
"You really think?" she asked quietly.  
Pixel became flustered. "Again! No clue! That's just what I saw. I-I don't know, what do you think? Or more, how do you feel about that?"  
Stephanie bit her lip, her cheeks retaining their pink, rivaling her hair's hue. "W-Well, I know Uncle said something about girls being in love with other girls. And I've met your moms of course. So I know it's a thing. I guess...I guess I never considered it myself."  
Pixel looked at his friend. "So, is that a no?"  
Stephanie shook her head. "No, it's not a no. I just...I never knew or expected that."  
Pixel looked away thoughtfully. He nervously looked back at Stephanie and quietly said, "How does the idea of holding her hand sound to you?"  
Stephanie stopped. She let the idea flood her mind. Holding hands with Trixie, walking down the street towards the bakery. Her face felt hot, and butterflies knocked around in her stomach.  
Pixel gave a weak smile and nodded. "I think I have your answer." he said.  
Stephanie played with her hair anxiously. "G-Gee..." she said quietly.  
"Everything okay?"  
Stephanie laughed nervously. "Sorry! It's just a lot to consider. More than I was ready for."  
Pixel smiled. "Then don't for now. She's not here yet and we have no clue if my hunch is true. Let's just watch the fireflies." he said, pointing towards the first wave of glowing, green bugs.  
Stephanie sighed and smiled, giving a nod. "Good idea." she said, turning back towards the fields. "Hey Pixel?"  
"Yeah?"  
Stephanie smirked and playfully punched Pixel's arm. " _That's_ for giving me too much to think about!"  
Pixel jokingly looked hurt. "Aww, gee and I thought I was being a good friend!" he said, with a delay in how he said, "good friend".  
Stephanie smiled. "You are, but it's still pretty stressful."  
"I don't think it's supposed to be easy."  
"True, very true." affirmed Stephanie sagely. She flopped backwards onto the grass, covering her eyes with her arm as she sighed wearily.  
“Hey, look, here comes more fireflies.” Pixel said in a hushed tone.  
Stephanie opened her eyes and gasped. Like Pixel had said, hundreds of fireflies pooled up into the air, their flashing lights blinking through the darkness, creating a display that reminded Stephanie of Christmas. She watched in awe as a few fireflies danced around her head, temporarily illuminating her hair and face. She laughed as one firefly bumped her nose, dizzily flying into Pixel’s hair. He gasped and swatted at his locks, eventually sweeping the disoriented insect out of his hair.  
Stephanie laughed, then was overcome by a full-body shiver as she sat back up.  
“I didn’t expect it to get so cold.” Said Stephanie weakly.  
Pixel nodded and threw off his jacket, draping it around her shoulders. “Here, hope this helps.” He said with a small smile.  
Stephanie smiled and drew the jacket closer to her body. “Thanks, Pixel.” She said.

As Stephanie and Pixel continued to watch the firefly show, they missed the hurried crunching of grass and rustling of reeds, and the disturbed frogs and crickets leaping into the air. Trixie panted wearily, sprinting through the near endless sea of grass. She carefully brushed some sweat off her forehead, being careful not to smear her newly applied makeup. She cursed under her breath, cursing her choice to actually bother with the makeup, making her over an hour late for her meeting. The crickets’ singing seemingly taunted and laughed at her as she tromped through the fields, aiming her sights towards the dot of pink that she knew was her friend.  
She stuffed one hand into her pocket, checking for the letter once more. The sound of crinkling paper confirmed that it was still there, and she smiled happily. She wondered if giving the letter is still important, before settling on still giving Stephanie the letter, if everything was going well.  
As she drew closer, however, she soon noticed that Stephanie wasn’t alone. Her pace began to slow. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the second shape next to the pink girl. She soon spotted…orange? Her pace slowed more. The pink of Stephanie was slightly disrupted by something blue. A jacket, but Stephanie doesn’t wear blue? So it must be the other person’s jacket. The realization of what that may mean caused Trixie to grind to a halt. Despite her ceased movement, she was close enough to see who they were.

She saw Stephanie sitting close to Pixel, the two successfully distracted by the awe-inspiring sight of hundreds of fireflies in the air, with Stephanie tugging Pixel’s jacket close to her body.

Trixie felt a pain in her heart. She tried to view everything logically. Pixel and Stephanie were friends, sure. Good friends even. Every person had differing physical bubbles and different comfort levels, so perhaps sharing a jacket was something those two did as friends?  
Yet, Trixie noticed how close they were sitting. And that Stephanie never looked her way when she was approaching. It wasn’t like she was trying to be quiet either. Trixie felt her heart drop. Had during her pursuit and preparation of her confession she missed that the two were interested in each other? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.  
Trixie took one step backwards.  
She could go up and clear the confusion, but what if she was right? If they were together, it would be so awkward if she ran up asking about their relationship. She wouldn’t want to do that.  
Another step back.  
And wouldn’t they ask why she wanted to know? Her mind felt so frazzled that she knew she couldn’t come up with a good excuse. She’d end up telling the truth, and how would they react? Positively? Trixie wasn’t sure. Her mind just kept giving her the worst-case scenario: they’d revile and never speak to her again. Tears flooded her eyes. She heard something tumble from her pocket, but she didn’t care. Her chance was gone, and now she wondered why she was there.  
She stepped back, and something crunched under her foot.

Instantly, Trixie froze, and she saw Stephanie’s head whip towards her direction. Trixie wanted to hide her eyes and make it look less like she was about to cry, but that’d be even more suspicious. She just stood there, frozen in her place, looking at the two with teary eyes.  
“Trixie?” asked Stephanie.  
Trixie sucked in a breath, turned on her heel, and ran as fast as she could the other direction. Tears poured from her eyes as she ran, running blindly through the fields of grass, ignoring the cries from behind her.  
“Trixie! Come back!” called Stephanie, who had gotten up to run after her.  
However, as fast as the girl ran, she couldn’t catch up to Trixie, who had gotten a good enough lead that she soon vanished over the hills of grass.  
Stephanie slowed to a halt, staring at the spot that her friend once occupied. The wind blew her hair to the side as she stared worriedly. She furrowed her brow, hoping that the girl would turn and run back up the hill, as faint of a hope as that was.  
Trixie didn’t.  
Stephanie heard Pixel run up after her, panting steadily.   
“Stephanie, I think Trixie might’ve dropped this. It’s for you.” He said, holding out the crumpled letter.  
Stephanie turned to face Pixel, raising an eyebrow at the crumpled paper. She carefully smoothed it out in her hands, seeing her name written on the front in shaky, but still legible handwriting. It was written in red ink, Trixie’s signature color.  
“Do you want to open it?” asked Pixel.  
Stephanie didn’t answer at first, as she stared at the letter. She then slowly put it back into her pocket, making sure to fold it neatly first.  
“Pixel, did you happen to bring your bike?” she asked.  
“Sure did. Do you want to go after her?” asked Pixel.  
Stephanie nodded. “We need to catch her before she gets back to the farm. Your bike would be the fastest.

Within minutes, the two hopped onto Pixel’s bike, and the boy was pedaling them quickly into town, searching high and low for any sight of the pig-tailed girl.  
However, they came up fruitless. Trixie had seemingly vanished into thin air.  
“I’m sorry Stephanie, I don’t think we’re going to find her tonight.” Pixel said sadly.  
Stephanie stared determinedly at the darkened streets. Cupping her hands over her mouth, she called once more. “TRIXIE! WHERE ARE YOU?”  
No reply.  
Pixel shook his friend’s arm. “It’s getting late, Stephanie. If we keep yelling, we’re going to get in trouble.”  
Stephanie looked at her friend sadly. “I don’t want to give up yet though. She looked really hurt.”  
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found, Stephanie.” Suggested Pixel weakly.  
Stephanie’s eyes drifted back towards her pocket. She carefully pulled out the letter, turning it over in her hands. She thought for a moment, before sliding a finger under the fold, opening the envelope with a crisp snap. She eyed the letter a moment, before turning to Pixel.  
“Pixel, could you bring me home? I think you’re right, it’s getting late.” She said.  
Pixel nodded, and began to pedal towards the Mayor’s house.  
All the while, Stephanie pulled out the letter, and began to read.

\--

Robbie felt the broom shift and a course of magic flow through its wood, catching his attention.  
“Um Sportadork, what’s up with your broom? I felt it creak.” Robbie said with a hint of worry.  
Sportacus looked back and smiled. “Didn’t you notice? We’ve reached the edge of town. We’re preparing to fly up now!”  
Robbie’s eyes widened. “Woah what? Oh, see _my_ definition of the edge of town must be different than yours! We still got a while to go, Sportaflop. Keep flying.”  
Sportacus shook his head. “It’s going to be okay, Robbie. Just hang tight, we’ll make a slow incline.” He said, kicking his heels.  
Before Robbie could protest again, he felt the broom underneath him shift, the tip pointing up towards the sky. His arms flailed about wildly, Robbie feeling his body go tense before he flung himself forward, gripping onto the broomstick desperately as the broom began its ascent. He forced his eyes shut, trying desperately not to look down at the ground.  
“You know, I thought I was a jerk Sportaflop, but you take the cake!” Robbie shouted, wrapping his arms around the broom more. However, given how little space there was to grip, Robbie shrieked as he nearly flipped upside-down on the broom. He desperately reached out to grab onto something stable, accidentally gripping Sportacus’s midsection.  
Blushing, Robbie recoiled, teetering on the broom precariously. He clung to the broomstick once more, his eyes widening as the broom’s incline grew greater.  
Sportacus looked back. “Robbie, are you okay?” he asked.  
“Oh, I’m peachy, Sportaklutz! Just loving hanging for my life on a piece of cleaning equipment!” Robbie said with a fearful laugh.  
Sportacus reached back. “You can hang onto me, Robbie! It’s alright!”  
Robbie flushed a bright pink. “W-Well, maybe not hanging for my life! Just hanging on for my comfort! I’m good!” he said uneasily.  
A shake in the broom weakened Robbie’s grip. He gasped and, gritting his teeth, decided to ignore the fluttering in his stomach and grabbed Sportacus’s hand. The witch pulled him forward, reseating him right behind him. Robbie cautiously reached around and gripped the witch’s torso, trying not to think about how warm the witch felt, and how steady the witch held onto the broom. He also tried not to lean in close, no matter how much he wanted to.  
“You settled?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie only nodded, turning away to hide his cheeks.  
Sportacus smiled. “We’re almost there.”

The broom broke through the cloud layer, the shadowed sky now enlightened by the moon’s silver rays. Robbie felt the fluffy and cold condensed water brush past his face, leaving droplets of rainwater across his face. He shivered, holding on closer as the air grew still.  
He felt the broom slow to a standstill, and a hand gripping his arm, gently shaking him.  
“You can open your eyes now, Robbie. We’re here.” Sportacus said quietly.  
Robbie uneasily quirked one eye open, and soon enough his other eye followed as he took in the sight around him.  
Extending in front of them for endless miles, replacing the familiar fields of grass, was a sea of clouds, dark like charcoal yet highlighted with icy blue. Blazing like a ball of icy fire sat the moon, hanging above them, feeling almost close enough to touch it. The stars glittered and twinkled above them, a thicker blanket of millions of stars, many which are lost below the cloud layer by pollution now shining at their full glory. One star streaked through space, leaving a thin, scar across the night sky. Contrary to what Robbie figured, the sky was brighter above the clouds, a glow shining above the horizon line. There was something beyond words about the sight. All was so amazing in a celestial sense, and lifted his heart in a way he’d rarely experienced before.  
“Wow…” Robbie said in a hushed tone.  
Sportacus smiled, continuing to watch as his friend’s eyes twinkled and shone as he took in the sights. Carefully, Sportacus swung his leg over and perched himself on his broomstick. He patted the space next to him, ushering Robbie to join him. Robbie looked down and shrunk back, visibly tensing as he realized what Sportacus wanted him to do.  
“You don’t have to be scared, Robbie. I’ll make sure you’re okay.” Sportacus said with a smile.  
Robbie looked at the witch suspiciously. “Oh yeah? How? There’s maybe an inch wide of wood to hang onto for each of us. How will I be any safer with whatever you’re thinking?”  
Sportacus looked away momentarily, and Robbie could’ve sworn he caught a slight rose tint to his nose and cheeks. He looked back at the man, nervously smiling. “J-Just scooch over.” He said.  
Robbie bit his lip, before nodding. He shimmied across the wood, keeping his attention directed forward at Sportacus. As soon as he was close enough, he stood still as Sportacus wrapped an arm around his chest, holding him in a strange, awkward hold.  
“Now adjust your legs. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Sportacus said with a warm smile.  
“You promise?” asked Robbie, his voice unusually quieter and less harsh.  
“I promise.” Sportacus responded.  
Robbie gulped down a breath and closed his eyes. His arms stiff as wood, he shakily swung his right leg over first, feeling Sportacus’s arms tighten as he settles himself on the wood, sitting just like Sportacus. He quickly adjusted his hands so he braced himself on both sides, clutching the broomstick tightly. He felt the arm across his chest leave him, while the arm around his back remained, the witch’s strong hands holding him in close. Robbie steadily opened his eyes, seeing that he now sat successfully with his legs hanging off the broom.  
Robbie looked at Sportacus and gave him a shaky smile. Sportacus chuckled quietly and smiled back.  
“I knew you got it.” Sportacus said.  
Robbie laughed nervously, before turning his attention back to the sea of stars, watching how they shone and twinkled.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sky so beautiful.” Robbie commented.  
Sportacus looked out the stars with a smile. “It really never gets old.”

The two sat together for some time in silence, taking in with reverence the beauty before them.

“You know, this is nice. I’ve flown up this high before, and I’ve done this with Circe before. But, I must admit, it’s nice to do it with someone else.” Sportacus said.  
Robbie looked at the witch. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”  
Sportacus kicked a leg out. “Just…I said it never gets old, right? That’s still true. But sometimes you forget _how_ beautiful it is until you bring someone up here for the first time. You know it’s beautiful, but you don’t remember just how marvelous it all is.”  
Robbie smirked. “I could see that. Hard to remain amazed when you have the same person to experience it with all the time.”  
Sportacus looked at Robbie. “You’re still enjoying this, right?”  
Robbie gave a look and rolled his eyes. “Oh no, I’m completely bored taking in this beautiful and awe-inspiring sight of millions of stars, sitting improbably high above the clouds and close enough to the moon I could almost touch it. Please, may we go home soon?” he said sarcastically.  
Sportacus smiled warmly. “I just wanted to make sure. I know you’re afraid of heights.”  
“Well, not exactly.” Robbie said.  
“What?”  
“It’s not the heights that bother me. I just…don’t like the idea of falling.” Robbie said. “The lack of control terrifies me.” He said.  
Sportacus nodded. “I understand that.” He said quietly. He smiled with a warmth that Robbie felt in his heart. “You know that I’d never let you fall, right?”  
Robbie blushed. “I-I mean, I’d hope not.” He then added, “I believe I trust you by this point.”  
Sportacus himself seemed surprised. A half-cocked smile appeared on his face. “I’m…I’m glad to hear that.”  
Robbie smirked. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t let me fall. If I fall, given where your arm is, you’d fall too.”  
Sportacus glanced at his arm and laughed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right! Let’s hope neither of us sneeze then. We might slip off from that.”  
“Yeah, maybe you should invest in a net for this thing. I can’t imagine how stressful flying this thing alone would be.”   
“You know, I did consider that for a while. Don’t think I get enough guest fliers to make it necessary.” Sportacus said with a laugh.  
“Yeah,  I imagine they aren’t jumping at the opportunity to sit on a cleaning tool hundreds of miles above the earth.” Robbie said, giving the witch a look. "At least, if they have half a brain cell, which you can never guarantee."  
"Robbie!" Sportacus said, unable to hide a smirk.  
"Tell me I'm wrong! When you think about this, it's pretty crazy!"  
Sportacus nodded. "I know!"  
"I just wonder who was the first witch that saw their broom and though, 'hm, I think I'll take my good old sweeper up for a joyride'!" Robbie said with a giggle.  
Sportacus laughed, and Robbie couldn’t help but crack a smile. He began to laugh too, their laughter mixing into a symphony of giggles to an audience of clouds.

Brushing a tear away from his eye, Sportacus smiled warmly. “See, this is why I love hanging out with you Robbie. You’re so much fun to be with.”  
“Now that can’t be right. Sure you aren’t talking about someone else?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus gave him a look. “I am sure! I’ve never had someone I could talk to so freely and so easily! And who made me laugh so much!” he said.  
“I don’t believe you. How could you not have had anyone like this?”  
“Nomadic lifestyles don’t generally produce long-standing friendships.” Sportacus said with a sad smile. He looked Robbie in the eyes. “Really, I haven’t had someone to just be with like this. I forgot how nice it was and, I guess I’m trying to say…thank you.”  
Robbie raised an eyebrow. “For what?”  
Sportacus smiled. “For being such a great friend.”  
Robbie blushed a bright red. He gave a single laugh. “Um, you’re welcome, Sportafluff.” He looked down and twiddled his fingers. The blush grew brighter. “I guess I should thank you too, Sportadork. For, um, talking to me. And being my friend. It…It’s nice to me too.”  
Sportacus smiled. “You’re welcome, Robbie.”  
  
Silence. But not silence alone. A tension built in the air.

Sportacus sucked down a gulp, feeling his heart beat in his ears. He wanted to say something, but he could feel his nerves fighting against him. He had to, he wanted to. He decided to try. “Hey, Robbie, I um…”  
Robbie looked at Sportacus. “Y-Yeah?”  
Sportacus rubbed the back of his neck and gave a single, uneasy laugh. “I was just wondering if it’d be weird, or too much, to um…”  
Robbie looked at the witch expectantly.  
“…give you a hug?”  
Robbie blinked. “Oh.” He said, feeling his heart race faster.  “W-Well no, that’d be fine I guess. Go ahead if you must.” He answered as casually as he could muster.  
Sportacus gave a thankful smile, leaning in to give the lanky man a hug, wrapping his arms around his back. Robbie froze for a moment, his face burning as he processed what was happening. Slowly, he returned the hug, feeling the comfort of the witch’s hold. Forgetting himself momentarily, he leaned in close to the crook of his neck, feeling the warming comfort of the witch’s body. He took in a breath of his scent. Unsurprisingly, the witch smelled like apples, wild grass, and fresh baked bread. He sighed quietly, feeling the witch hug him tighter. How long had it been since he’d gotten a hug? However long, this still felt absolutely wonderful.  
He felt Sportacus’s hands shift a little lower, and him pull back just enough so they could see each other face to face. Robbie thought he might drown in the man’s bright blue eyes, his lips turned into a small, warm smile. Robbie felt his heart beat faster, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering faster.  
Sportacus bit his lip gently, before saying, “Your eyes are very gray. They almost look silver up here.”  
Robbie gave a half-smile. “Well, your eyes are blue. Very blue. Like…like the sky.” He said, a shaky hand running up to brush some of the witch’s sun-kissed, golden hair from his face. He might’ve been imagining it, but he could’ve sworn he felt Sportacus lean a little into his hand. And maybe he was just seeing it, but he thought he caught the glimpse of pink on the witch’s face, one that paralleled his.  
Robbie shivered as a hand ran up to cup the side of his face, holding it carefully and softly. Part of his brain was yelling, screaming about how this was happening, and how could it be happening. He smiled nervously, feeling a little relived as he spotted the nervous smile on Sportacus’s face.  
“This is really happening? This is real, right?” asked Robbie nervously.  
Sportacus laughed with a similar anxiousness. “I think so. Pretty sure.”   
Robbie laughed, feeling his cheeks’ warmth intensify as he gazed at the witch, the moon highlighting the gold in his hair. He watched as Sportacus’s eyes fluttered shut, and he slowly drew closer. Robbie tried to fight the urge to freeze up, to stiffen at the advance. Instead, he closed his own eyes, listening to his heart beat faster and louder, his stomach swirling with fast flying butterflies.

Then, a gust of wind, and something decidedly not human and more cloth-like smacked him in the face.

Robbie sputtered, letting go of Sportacus just long enough to swipe the fabric off his face. He blinked, adjusting to the light as he stared at the thing in his hands. It took a moment, but he finally processed the idea that what he was holding was Sportacus’s signature cap and goggles. Slowly, his eyes drifted back up, and it was then that he froze.  
Newly exposed and glowing in the moonlight was a mop of messily curled, golden hair, which loosely framed a pair of ears that wiggled in the cool night air.  
A pair of ears that were long.  
A pair that were pointed.  
Pointed.  
Long.  
“ _No_ …” Robbie thought in horror, his rapidly beating heart going still in his chest and a cold chill running through his body, his body stiffening.  
“I’m so sorry about that Robbie!” Sportacus said with an awkward smile. “Turbulence can be crazy up here, huh?”  
Robbie just stared at the witch, his face growing increasingly pale.  
Sportacus’s smile vanished, replaced with a concerned expression. “Robbie?”  
Robbie began to breath in shallow, rapid breaths. His eyes darted up to the sky, seeing it grow stained a bright orange color. The worried voice of the witch was soon drowned out by screams. The smell of smoke filled the air, and his father and mother’s words swirled around him.  
_No matter what they say or do,  
Never  
**Never  
** Never Trust an elf.  
They think we’re all monsters!  
They’re targeting innocent fae, and children like **you**.  
They found us! They’ll kill us all!  
_ “R-Robbie? Please, are you okay?” asked Sportacus, growing increasingly more worried.  
Robbie shook his head fearfully, leaning away from the witch. “N-No…” he muttered, feeling his body shake.

He was so overtaken by the smell of smoke, the screams, and his own horror, he didn’t feel himself slip.

“ROBBIE!” screamed Sportacus, who quickly swung his legs back around his broom, kicking his heels together to zip after his falling friend.  
Robbie finally broke out of his terrified trance to feel the stinging air blowing past his face, the clouds that once hung below him growing increasingly closer. Robbie gasped, tears streaming past his face. He tried to will himself to create a barrier spell, a levitation spell, _anything_ that would save him from such a gruesome fate. But no matter how much his mind yelled, his body remained obstinate. All the while, he fell through the clouds, their wispy texture rushing past his form.  
Sportacus aimed his broomstick straight down, squinting his eyes as he tried to keep an eye on Robbie. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the chilling feeling against his teeth. He tried to aim a gravity spell as Robbie, to no success. Robbie was too far away to accurately cast a cushioning spell or to levitate him. Cursing his luck, Sportacus kicked his heels together again, urging the broom to fly faster. He zipped through the cloud layer, breaking through the other side as the two drew dangerously close to the earth.  
Robbie was frozen yet screaming with fear, his arms and legs uselessly kicking and flailing at the empty air, looking for anything to grab onto. He stared in horror as the ground drew closer, his mind filling with pleas for safety and escape. Almost in response, he felt something…long forgotten. Like a once routine action that one didn’t practice for many years and then tried to do again suddenly.  
Soon enough, Robbie’s screams of fears transitioned to shrieks of pain.  
It burned, and ached, and Robbie heard a ringing in his ears as something tore through his shirt. Amidst the rushing air, he heard his shirt finally give, small scraps of fabric flying upwards as something beat uselessly at the air. He peered back and shuddered, more tears falling. What had emerged, he knew couldn’t save him, no matter how much they still felt like they could. He looked back towards the earth that grew ever closer and he closed his eyes, accepting his fate.  
That is, until something slammed straight into him, changing his vertical momentum to diagonal momentum. All the wind was blown out of Robbie’s lungs as the two fell at a slower, though still painful rate towards the earth, skidding through the grassy fields and tumbling to a standstill. Sportacus panted and pulled himself painfully into an upright position. He looked to his side, seeing his damaged broom, half of its handle near broken away from the main stick. One more crash and the broom would be history, but for now he could fix it given enough time.   
He then shot his attention to the groaning man a few feet away from him. His pupils shrunk as Sportacus pulled himself to a standing position and he ran to the man’s side.  
“Robbie!” Sportacus cried, before stopping in his tracks.

Robbie, aside from a few scrapes and bruises, seemed to be in one piece. And he was well enough to drag himself into a sitting position. However, Sportacus’s attention was drawn to one, very new detail that hung on Robbie’s back. Jutting out from his shoulder blades were a pair of, what could only loosely be called, wings. Sportacus nearly teared up as he glanced at their state. What remained of the wings barely extended a foot away from Robbie’s back, their edges frayed and black, in comparison to the purplish-black color of the rest of the wings. If he were to compare them to something, they looked like a leaf that had been thrown into a fire and pulled out before it was burned away completely. They fluttered weakly and emitted a low buzzing sound. Sportacus went white as a sheet as he glanced at what they revealed: long, trailing scars of white and painful red that stretched across Robbie’s entire back.  
Horror is the only word that could describe what Sportacus felt in that moment. He cupped a hand over his mouth, tears building in his eyes.  
“Robbie…what…” he said in a near whisper.  
Robbie’s head snapped over to look at Sportacus, a mixed look of betrayal, pain, and fear in his eyes. Breathing sharply, Robbie crawled away backwards, glaring at the witch with a look of pure anger.  
“You…You’re an elf…” Robbie hissed, pulling his shoulders back to protect what remained of his wings.  
Sportacus reached a hand towards Robbie. “Robbie, what happened? What happened to your wings? Please, I want to help you!” he begged.  
Robbie gritted his teeth, and he flung a desperate spell straight at the elf, missing Sportacus but causing him to leap out of range. Sportacus tumbled back to a crouching position in the grass and was about to stand, until he heard a low hiss from Robbie.  
“I knew I should’ve never trusted you.” Robbie growled, a tone of pain in his voice.  
Sportacus recoiled as he felt his heart shatter.  
“Robbie…” he said sadly.  
Robbie shook his head, never letting his eyes leave the elf. “You stay away from me, _elf_.” He said, his voice shaking with a hint of venom in how he addressed Sportacus.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. He took a step forward. “Robbie, please!” he begged.

Before Sportacus could do anything more, however, Robbie snapped his fingers, and his form vanished into the long-casted shadows of the grasses, leaving Sportacus alone in the quiet night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo, yeah things just tumbled down south and the path ahead ain't looking any brighter. I hope this chapter was good, given just how much happened in this singular chapter. I also don't see it slowing down in the near future, so chapters are just going to remain fairly long. Then again, I'm assuming most of you are already expecting 10,000+ word chapters at this point so yeah lol XD
> 
> Thank you all for reading and staying with this story! Answers to questions about Robbie's background and Sportacus's backstory will be given soon! Okay, not super soon, but soon!


	12. Cataclysm

For almost the next two weeks, Sportacus spent his time searching. All the time he had between, before, and after his daily deliveries and errands, he’d hop on his still-damaged broom and fly through the city and surrounding fields. He’d scour through the alleyways, overturning boxes and trash bags, and fly low through the rustling grasses. He’d leap across rooftops and knock on the doors of his friends’ homes, asking if anyone had seen even a glimpse of his missing friend. He even spent a few days away from LazyTown, searching through surrounding towns and cities, asking around for a lanky man decked in purple with a well-kept pompadour.

Yet even with all his searching, each day he’d come up empty handed.

And with every failure, he grew more upset and desperate.

Circe was perched on the edge of a rooftop, laying lazily out in the sun, when she spotted her witch flying slowly above the roofs, turning left to right as he scanned the streets for the umpteenth time this week. She licked her paw, giving him a brief glance, before stopping mid-lick.  
“Sportacus! In front of you!” she warned.  
Sportacus blinked and, in a delayed reaction, looked forward and pulled back harshly on his broom, his eyes going wide as dinner plates. He panted as the adrenaline coursed through his body and he finally processed what he’d just almost run into.  
“Sheesh Sportacus, you really need to look where you’re going! Do you want to be electrocuted?” asked Circe in a scolding tone.  
Sportacus stared ahead at the buzzing and swinging powerline in front of him, gulping down a hard breath as he realized exactly what could’ve happened. He gave a silent nod and looked at his familiar, a strand of blond hair falling onto his face.  
“S-Sorry, and thanks Circe. Guess I was just distracted.” He said wearily.  
Circe raised an unseen eyebrow. She shook her head. “Get over here, Sportacus.” She said with a sigh.  
Slowly, Sportacus floated towards Circe’s roof, stopping right at its edge.  
Circe stood up on her hind legs and frowned, furrowing her brow and scrunching her nose as she scrutinized Sportacus’s face. Her whiskers twitched and she shook her head, looking at the witch with a mixture of concern and frustration.  
"Sportacus, just how much sleep have you been getting lately?" she asked.  
Sportacus bit his lip. "A little less than usual." he said quietly.  
Circe frowned. "I'd say more than that. Your eye bags have eye bags." she noted. She shook her head. "You've been out late searching for him again, haven't you?"  
Sportacus didn't answer, but the look on his face confirmed everything Circe suspected.  
"I figured." Circe sighed. "When was the last time you actually got a full night's sleep?"  
Sportacus thought for a moment, before slowly answering, "Several nights ago. I... haven’t been able to sleep lately."  
"Clearly." Circe said disapprovingly.  
Sportacus looked at his familiar with a mixture of sleepiness and sadness.

Circe’s gaze softened and she patted the spot next to her. Sportacus didn’t even ask any questions, instead obliging by sitting himself right down next to his feline, setting his broom to rest next to him.  
"You've been really worried about him, haven't you?" she asked quietly.  
Sportacus nodded slowly. "He's all I can think about right now."  
"Understandable." said Circe with a sigh. "I'll admit when you told me what happened, I didn't know how to process it at first either. He freaks out after seeing your ears and then near immediately afterwards you find out that he's, of all things, fae. Then he flips out and vanishes." She shook her head with a weak smirk. "Not exactly an ideal end to a first date."  
Sportacus didn't laugh. Instead he just watched his hands as his fingers drummed against his thigh.  
Circe's smirk vanished. "Sportacus, look. I know you're worried about him, but you've been running yourself ragged looking for the guy. You're out nearly every night searching for him with no luck and I'm pretty sure the townsfolk are starting to notice. Don't think I haven't seen you teetering on your broom." she said with a harsh tone. Her face softened once more as she looked pleadingly at the witch. "You can't do this to yourself, Sportacus. You might just have to accept that, for the time, Mr. Rotten doesn't want to be found. And you need to start getting proper rest and nutrition again. You and I both know you can't function without both."  
Sportacus looked at his familiar with an expression so fallen, it burrowed a knife into Circe's heart.  
"But I can't just stop, Circe. Even if I wanted to, every time I go to sleep, I see him. I see...I see his wings." he said, his face paling as the image flashed into his mind. "And his back. It was covered in scars. Long ones, old ones. They were thickest and darkest right around the roots of his wings." he said in a hushed tone.  
Circe bit her lip, looking down. "Well, at least it makes sense why we couldn't discern what kind of magic user he is. Wings are the source of magic for a faerie. Without them, his magic is, by all accounts, handicapped." she noted darkly. She looked at the witch and cringed, seeing his eyes water. "S-Sorry, probably shouldn't have said that." she said apologetically.  
Sportacus's eyes fell to his hands, which were clenched around the edge of his tunic. His lips tightened into a thin line as he stared at his lap.  
"I just...who could've done that to him?" he asked quietly. He gripped the fabric in his hands tighter. "No, I know that whoever did it, it had to be an...an elf. Like me." he said, his voice growing shakier.  
Circe looked at him seriously. "Not like you. Don't you dare start with that. What happened that night wasn't your fault. I know that's what you're thinking and I'm going to make you stop right now."

Sportacus looked over in surprise at his familiar.  
"I-I wasn't..."  
"But you were about to. Don't even consider the idea, Sportacus. Whatever happened to him, judging from the scars you were describing, happened a long time ago. There's nothing you could've done, or I could've done, to stop whatever happened." Circe said.  
"But he - "  
"Most likely wasn't scared or angry at you. Not specifically." Circe finished for him. "You and I both know that for a faerie, losing their wings is one of their greatest fears. And for him to actually have lost them must've been beyond traumatizing. When he saw your ears, it might've triggered a memory, and he panicked." Circe said, licking her paw.  
Sportacus's hardened look softened. He nodded slowly, mulling over his familiar's words.  
"I think...I think you're right." Sportacus responded.  
"Of course I'm right." Circe answered. "The best thing for you, however, is to give him some space. At least until you finally get some rest. Because I'm certain that, once you find him, it's going to be an exhausting experience for you both."  
Sportacus looked at his familiar hopefully. "You think he'll come back?"  
Circe shrugged. "Probably. He left all his crap here. He'll at least come back to gather it all up."  
Sportacus chuckled quietly. He went silent as his eyes drifted to the side, and he softly asked, "And, do you think we'll be...?"  
Circe stopped. She looked at the witch and gave him a weak smile. "I, well...we can be hopeful." she finally said.  
Sportacus's spirits dropped slightly, but he gave a small, thankful nod regardless. He petted his familiar's head. "Thanks, buddy."  
Circe smiled. "Anything to help a friend." She pulled away and walked towards her witch's broom. "Now come on, let's go get you some rest. And you better fly slowly. I'm sure driving under influence laws apply to your broom, and we can't afford another ticket from Obtuse."  
Sportacus laughed and picked up his broom, clambering onto it with Circe. He prepared to kick his heels and fly off, when he spotted a figure in pink on the ground.  
He frowned as he watched the distracted meandering of the girl, a piece of paper in her hands.  
"Sportacus, are we going?" asked Circe.  
Sportacus shook his head. "We can head back in a minute. I think I'll go talk to Stephanie real quick."  
"That can't wait until after our nap?"  
Sportacus shook his head again. "No, it looks like something's bothering her." He smiled at his familiar. "It should only take a minute."  
Circe sighed and rolled her eyes. "You altruistic types give me a headache." she mumbled.  
Sportacus laughed and floated back towards the ground.

_  
_ Given how focused Stephanie was on the note in her hands, she didn’t even notice Sportacus until his boots hit the pavement. Once she finally noticed the blue-clad witch right in front of her, she nearly jumped at his sudden appearance.  
“Hey Stephanie!” said Sportacus, giving her a tired but chipper smile.  
Stephanie collected herself before giving Sportacus a weak smile. “Hey Sportacus, didn’t see you there.”  
Sportacus’s smile faded. “Is everything okay? You seem pretty distracted.”  
Stephanie bit her lip and nodded. “I’m…yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot lately.”  
“About what?”  
“I don’t really think I can say but…” she said, sighing. “…it has to do with Trixie.”  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Oh?”  
Stephanie nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to find her for the last week but I haven’t had any luck. I’ve tried knocking on her door, but she doesn’t answer, and she hasn’t been at the playground or the garden.”  
“Why have you been looking for her so much? Is she not feeling well?”  
Stephanie crooked the corner of her mouth. “Sort of? It’s a little hard to explain.” She gestured to the note in her hands. “It has to do with this letter.”  
Sportacus looked at it curiously. “Something important I imagine?”  
Stephanie nodded. “Very. And I need to talk to her about it.”  
Sportacus folded his arms. “I’m sorry you can’t find her, Stephanie.” He said.  
Stephanie gave a half-smile. “It’s okay, I know she’ll turn up eventually.” Her smile vanished. “I’m just worried about her, I guess.”  
“I can go check on her if you’d like.” Sportacus suggested.  
Stephanie chuckled. “No, maybe don’t do that.” She shook her head. “Maybe I just need to stop looking for her right now. Take a break.”  
Sportacus smirked. “I’ve heard that that’s a good thing to do every now and then.”  
Stephanie sighed and looked at her watch, her eyes widening. “Oh no! Looks like I’ll have to stop for now! Uncle needs me at the park for the Invention Day Festival!”  
“Invention Day…” said Sportacus, before his eyes widened in revelation. “Is that today??”  
Stephanie nodded and looked nervously at her watch. “I’m supposed to be there in two minutes! I’ll never make it!”  
Sportacus looked at his broom and smiled. “Not if you fly! Hop on!” he said, straddling his broom.  
Stephanie stared in shock at the witch. “You mean it? I mean, will I fall off it? I don’t see any seatbelts.”  
Sportacus’s gaze grew sad as he smiled and said, “I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”  
Stephanie, missing her friend’s change in emotion, excitedly hopped onto the broom, mimicking her friend’s posture.

Sportacus grinned and pulled his goggles over his eyes. “Hang on!”  
As the broom raised up into the sky, Stephanie let out a loud cheer and laughed, giddy with glee over the impromptu flight. With a kick of his heels, the two were soon speeding off towards the colorful tents and strings of balloons rising from the town center.

\--

_Several minutes earlier_

“Trixie? Trixie! Earth to Trixie!” said Stingy harshly, snapping his fingers in front of his friend’s face.  
Trixie blinked, then frowned and pushed her friend’s hand away. “Knock that off! What’s your deal? I’m right here!”  
Stingy gave her a look. “Maybe your body is, but your brain is in la-la land! Are we going to do this or not? And better answer quick, we don’t want to get Obtuse’s attention!” he hissed.  
Trixie peered at the bags that sat by her friends’ legs. Their school bags had been emptied of their usual contents and instead were filled with the premium, crème de la crème of trickery tools and prank materials. Goop of unknown origin, different kitchen supplies, whoopee cushions, and other similar junk. Ziggy was pawing through the hoard, picking out his favorite smelly liquids, smiling nervously at their supplies.  
It was at that moment that Trixie remembered the whole reason they were there. Trixie had been cooking up a plan to prank the Invention Day Festival by creating some unexpected “results” out of many of the inventions. Nothing too harmful; just enough to get some shock out of the townsfolk, but not enough to get them chased by Obtuse and reported. Simple fun, fun that was right up Trixie’s alley.  
Trixie nodded, a small smirk crossing her face. “Right, listen up you two.”  
The two boys turned towards their leader.  
“We have one goal with all of this: place little surprises in all of the simpler inventions. Don’t toy with the bigger ones, because those we can’t predict how they’ll react, got it? You’ve got all the stuff, are you both ready?”  
Stingy gave a nod.  
Ziggy gave a more nervous nod.  
Trixie grinned. “Good, then let’s go.”

The trio snuck quietly into the still quiet festival, dodging and weaving between crates and barrels, tiptoeing past Officer Obtuse as he continued his patrol of the festivities. Trixie signaled for Ziggy to head towards one row of inventions, while she pointed Stingy towards another. She herself went towards the middle row, a bag of marbles in hand.  
The three chuckled to themselves as they set their booby traps. Ziggy poured a copious amount of vinegar into a small, tornado simulator, while setting a small baking soda balloon to pop as soon as the machine was turned on. Stingy stuffed goop into a cotton candy gun and slid whoopee cushions under the premium massage chairs. Trixie, meanwhile, busied herself with sliding marbles into a strange, hamster cage like contraption that she couldn’t even guess what it was meant to be, when she spotted something sitting right in the middle of the festival.  
Partly covered by a large white tarp, its shiny chrome glistening in the sun, was the biggest machine Trixie had ever seen in her life. Walking closer, Trixie gawked at the beauty of the invention, which was built in a gorgeous array of silvery metals and blue lights. It hummed and purred as it idled in the park, a few lights flashing across its sides. Trixie circled the machine, admiring its craftmanship, when she spotted a small sign, denoting its creator.  
_Pixel, Age 10. Solar-efficiency Airplane Engine_.  
Pixel.  
Trixie’s admiring smile soon vanished at the sight of the name. It sent her spiraling into memories of that night a while back. The one where so many of her hopes and dreams were crushed into small piles of dust. The night she had to witness her worst fears come true. She clenched her fist as she fought back tears. Logically, she knew she had little to be angry at. If Stephanie truly was with Pixel, and they were happy, then she should be happy as a friend. But she wasn’t. No, she felt something bubble within her, perhaps spurred by her unrequited feelings and the lingering pain of that night.  
Jealousy.  
A dangerous glare flickered in her eyes, and she seethed as she looked at the machine. Without a thought, she stuffed her hand into her bag, pulling out a large fistful of bright red goop that jiggled in her hand. She eyed the machine, quickly spotting an open tube on its side. Not considering the ramifications of her actions, she shoved as much goop as she could into the pipe, stuffing it full of the nasty stuff. She stepped back, and her choice began to settle in her chest. A small worry flared in her mind, as she stared at the few trails of red goo that hung to the chrome piping. She had broken her own rule by tempering with Pixel’s things, and truly this wasn’t all his fault. He didn’t know how she felt, and she knew that he wasn’t the type to be vindictive enough to date the very person she feels fondness for.  
Yet, it still felt somewhat cathartic.  
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that fact.

“Trixie? Are you finished? We better scram, the festival is going to start soon!” Stingy whispered.  
Trixie shook herself out of her thoughts, and gave her friend a nod.  
“Yeah, I’m done. Come on guys, let’s go. Let’s hang at Stingy’s and lay low.” Trixie murmured. She gave one last look at Pixel’s engine before she joined her friends.  
The three then tailed it out of the park, only giving one last glance to their handiwork that littered the festival.

\--

The Invention Day Festival was a gorgeous event, filled to the brim with LazyTowners gathering to celebrate the pinnacle of their community’s achievements in science and engineering. Families gazed in admiration at the multiple stands filled with experiments and inventions, listening with ready ears to the long-winded explanations of their creations’ inner workings. At the center of it all sat a stage, where most of the townsfolk had gathered, ready for the main showcase.

With a series of clicks and a burst of confetti, the Mayor stepped up to the stage, giving a friendly smile to the clapping and cheering townsfolk.  
“Welcome everyone, to LazyTown’s fifteenth annual Invention Day!” the Mayor’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers.  
The crowd cheered as the Mayor shuffled through his papers, pulling a few choice pieces and stacking them at the front.  
“As you know, part of our tradition is the showcase where some of our brightest and most exceptional minds come to the stage to specially show off their hard work and display the greatest works that come from a scientifically oriented mind! I’m quite positive we have some remarkable sights to see today, so let’s not wait any longer!” the Mayor said chipperly, gesturing for the first inventor, a young girl named Betty, to walk onstage.  
Sportacus watched from the back, clapping as the girl toted a wagon behind her. Despite his weariness, the hustle and bustle of the festival felt welcome to him. He could allow himself to get swept away in the cheering and positivity, rather than get caught up in the circles his mind was running around a certain someone. He glanced to his shoulder, seeing Circe give a sleepy, unenthusiastic meow. He chuckled. He’d have to make up the skipped nap at a later point.  
  
A small, timid girl, with ashy brown hair and a noticeable overbite crossed the stage towards the center, giving a small wave to the group of overly loud, enthusiastic individuals in the back. Sportacus assumed the group was mostly her family members. Yanking the sheet down, Betty revealed her invention, which looked like a cross between a baseball pitching machine and a t-shirt cannon.  
“Umm, my invention is based on the, uh, need for faster c-c-communication!” said Betty, her voice wobbling with nervousness. She presented a mail tube to the audience, who oo’ed in response to the device.  
“T-This will make it much, much faster to send letters t-t-to friends from far…far away!” said Betty, giving a squiggled smile. She carefully inserted the letter into the pipe, taking a step back towards a long lever that jutted out from the back of the machine. She set some adjustments into the machine, aiming the nozzle towards a large target halfway across the park. Setting the power to “low”, Betty gritted her teeth and pulled down on the lever, hearing it click into place. The machine sputtered and hummed, its base shaking concerningly. Before the audience could voice their worries, however, the machine shot the mail tube straight at the target, hitting the wood board with a loud _thunk_. However, the tube was soon followed by a stream of yellow, smelly goop, that sprayed across a dozen unlucky audience members, covering them with the goopy solution that stuck fast to their clothes.  
Betty gave a petrified look to the Mayor. “T-That wasn’t supposed to happen!” she quickly said.  
The Mayor, breaking himself out of his daze, gave a reassuring nod to Betty. “I believe you, Betty. I do believe, unfortunately, that your machine was the victim of a prank. Hopefully this is the only one, but your machine worked splendidly!” he praised, ushering for the audience to applaud.  
The town followed suit, and Betty gave a nervous bow before walking off the stage, her now goop covered invention in tow.

Following Betty was a line of inventors of varying ages, all presenting with pride their various inventions. Sportacus marveled at the creativity that these humans possessed and how it surfaced in so many different ideas and concepts. Some of the inventions seemed much more useful than others: a young boy named Marcus created a machine to wake up drivers who fell asleep at the wheel. A teen girl named Destiny presented her invention to help children conquer their fears of the dark. And Sportacus’s favorite, created by sibling duo Henry and Ayn, a machine that could customize an individual’s workout based on their base physical abilities and determine the perfect workout.  
Others, of course, were sillier. Neil and Jives presented a machine that shoots toast up into the air and lands on your plate (the Mayor seemed to get really excited over that one). Three teenagers giggled as they presented their humidor that seemed to spew a suspiciously fragrant stream of smoke. They were about to go on about their wonderful creation, until Officer Obtuse pulled them off the stage. Sportacus noticed him giving the teens a sternly worded lecture soon after. Mr. Ehrman stormed the stage with his “anti-witch repellant” which, in reality, was just a can of bug spray that he added cinnamon to and repainted the label. Sportacus only gave an annoyed eye roll as the old man was carted off stage once he started on another loud rambling rant about “supernaturals” taking over the town.  
“I’m very sorry you had to see that, Sportacus.” The Mayor said in a hushed tone.  
Sportacus simply smirked and shrugged. “Eh, I’ve heard worse. Though really, cinnamon is the worst thing to drive away magical beings. If he knew what he was doing, he’d use basil.”  
The Mayor’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “No, not really.”  
The Mayor gave a single laugh, barely listening to Sportacus’s responses. “Ah, always the joker aren’t you, Sportacus?” he said, as he strolled back up onto the stage.

A few more inventors went up to the stage, showing off their hard work proudly to the ever eager and enthusiastic townsfolk. Most went smoothly, though even more were marred by various “pranks” and “tricks” that turned excited grins into sour frowns as with every prank, the town had to be cleared of goop, glitter, and other messy materials. Sportacus made a mental note to try and help Obtuse with finding whoever had planted all the booby traps. The first time was funny enough, but after twenty or so pranks the joke had grown stale.  
Although, he almost preferred the pranks to when the Mayor stood on stage, holding a handful of clear, glass-like marbles in his hands.  
“Well, at this point in the program, I would be welcoming Mr. Rotten up to the stage to showcase his…um, invention. But I’m afraid he isn’t present.” He said, holding up the marbles.  
Sportacus’s smile fell, and he felt a pain in his heart once more. He thought about how beautiful those magic marbles were when Robbie had first shown them off. It made sense the Mayor had no clue how great they were; those marbles required a smidge of magic to get them started. Without it, they were as unremarkable as they looked. If only Robbie were there, if only what happened that night hadn’t happened. Maybe Robbie would be dazzling the town with his fireless fireworks at that moment, showing off scenes of hydras battling warriors, or a dizzying display of ballerinas dancing against the midday sky.  
He was broken out of his thoughts by Circe, who nudged his chin gently.  
“Don’t think about that. Just focus on the now.” She suggested calmly.  
Sportacus gave a weak smile and a nod, turning his attention back to the stage.  
“So, instead, we’ll just skip to our biggest invention in the festival’s history! Please put your hands together for our local genius, Pixel!” the Mayor said, clapping excitedly.  
Pixel strode up on stage, looking grown-up with his crisp white dress shirt and dark gray slacks. The town cheered wildly, waiting with baited breath as he postured towards the gigantic device hidden under a tarp. It had to be nearly the size of a bicycle.  
“Thank you, Mayor!” Pixel said with a smile. Tapping the microphone, he looked towards the crowd with a glow on his face. “LazyTown, we’re on the edge of making history. Within the next few weeks, we’ll be flying for the very first time an airplane made by a cross-generational build team, and it’ll be flown by our very own Mayor Meanswell!”  
The crowd cheered as the Mayor gave a half-bow, smiling in a surprised fashion at the enthusiastic response. Ms. Busybody, who had been standing off to the side, leaned over and planted a kiss on the Mayor’s cheek, urging a crimson shade to his cheeks.  
Pixel chuckled and shook his head. “Of course, that won’t be the end of us making history! What I’m about to unveil to all of you today is something never seen before. It’s truly one of a kind, and could change how we engineer airplanes into the future! Presenting…” said Pixel, tearing off the tarp.  
The crowd oo’ed and gazed in wonder at the beautiful craftsmanship. They had never seen anything as beautifully crafted as Pixel’s engine. The sleek chrome shimmered in the sunlight, and the small blue lights flashed and flared like an artificial heartbeat within the machine. Pixel grinned proudly as he looked upon the astonished expressions.  
“This is my Solar Aero-Engine 6000! The first airplane engine to derive its fuel entirely from stored solar power! With this engine, we could secure the first, completely emission-free flight in the world! This is still a prototype, but it’s a promising start to a wonderful future!” Pixel announced, patting the engine.  
The crowd chittered amongst themselves excitedly.  
“Turn it on! Turn it on!” chanted someone within the crowd. Soon enough everyone joined in, their cheers echoing throughout the town.  
Pixel looked at the Mayor nervously. The Mayor, partly distracted by Ms. Busybody, who had draped herself around his shoulders, gave him thumbs-up.  
Pixel gave a nod and turned to his machine, forcing back a confident smile. Pressing a bright red button, Pixel stirred the engine to life. Pistons pumped and the engine’s humming grew louder, the lights glowing bright blue. The audience cheered, their applause growing into a booming soundwave that could’ve shaken half the buildings into piles of bricks.  
Pixel sighed a sigh of relief, watching his machine whir and chug along, the battery symbol keeping steady.

Things were going well, and the town grew louder.  
The cheers were so raucous, Pixel almost missed the sound of something clattering deep within the engine, and the squelching noises that overrode the rhythmic humming of the machine’s heart.  
A series of sparks flew from the machine, followed by a burst of thick black smoke. The engine let out a whine and a warning chirp, the pistons falling out of tempo.  
A panicked expression instantly replaced Pixel’s relieved smile as he struggled with the controls. He repeatedly jammed the emergency stop button, but the engine failed to respond. Instead, more smoke and sparks flew from the engine, threatening to light the stage on fire.  
“P-Pixel! Shut off the thing!” begged the Mayor, who was looking nervously at the increasingly uneasy crowd.  
“I-I’m trying! The engine won’t respond!” wailed Pixel, who kept trying the emergency shut-off button.  
In the midst of the crowd, Sportacus’s eyes grew wide.  
Circe looked at her witch. “Sportacus, you handle the engine. I’ll do what I can to get the townsfolk out of the way.” She said decisively.  
Sportacus sucked in a sharp breath and nodded. “Okay, sounds good.”  
Circe leapt off his shoulder and landed on the ground, her whiskers crackling with magic. She meowed loudly, using her magic to amplify her voice. Several townsfolk turned and looked at the cat with panicked expressions.  
“Everyone! Follow Circe! She’ll keep you safe!” Sportacus said.  
Some of the townsfolk looked doubtful, until Circe’s eyes flashed a bright blue, and she manipulated several pieces of plywood around an abandoned stand, creating a makeshift shield, whispering words that roughly translated to phrases about walls and shields. The townsfolk ran and ducked for cover behind the wood.  
Stephanie stood up from the crowd. “Pixel! Come on! Get out of there!” she cried.  
Pixel was still fumbling with the machine. “I’ve got this! I can save this!” he said loudly.  
Sportacus sprinted and flipped onto the stage, ushering the Mayor and Ms. Busybody away from the stage.  
“Pixel! You have to run! It’s about to catch on fire!” said Sportacus.  
Pixel shook his head furiously. “No! I spent too much time on this! I can salvage it!”  
Sportacus ran towards the boy, shaking his shoulder. “This isn’t the time to argue, Pixel! You have to get behind the barrier!”  
Pixel, however, stood steadfast, still playing with the controls.  
Sportacus bit his lip, thinking a moment. He splayed out his hands in front of him, and he immediately began thinking thoughts of containers, energy, and opposing force, and focused it around the engine. His hands began to glow blue, and the same blue light encompassed the engine, the smoke pooling around the edges of the barrier.  
Pulling his attention away for just a moment, Sportacus looked at Pixel and yelled, “I’ve got it covered! Now run!”  
Pixel gave the witch a thankful nod before darting towards the cowering townsfolk.

With everyone safely away from the destabilizing engine, Sportacus turned back to the machine, which began to split at the seams just as Pixel ran for cover. Cringing, Sportacus considered his options. He knew he couldn’t hold the shield up forever. At the same time, he had no clue how to defuse the flaming, smoking engine. He knew he had to quench the flames, but he didn’t want to drop the shield. He could feel the engine pulse and begin to separate, pieces falling off the main body. Closing his eyes, Sportacus finally decided his move. He thought of dew, rain, and cool showers. From the barrier, water droplets began to fall slowly over the engine, dripping and sizzling against the steaming hot metal. Streams of steam furled around each water drop, creating more condensation on the magic barrier.  
Sportacus could feel himself sweat, and he sighed in relief as the smoke died down, the flames growing smaller as the water continued to drip onto and into the engine. He looked to the side, giving an uneasy smile to the townsfolk. He looked back to the engine, watching the water drip.  
That’s when he spotted something. Red goo.  
It pooled in an exposed exhaust pipe that, from the malfunctioning, was twisted right above an open spot in the engine. The goo collected into a large drip, and it slowly, agonizingly slowly, dripped down towards the heart of the engine.  
Sportacus’s eyes flew wide, and he immediately threw as much as he could into strengthening his shield, already knowing what was coming next.  
But his exhaustion failed him. His magic shivered from his effort, drawing energy from the empty source inside him, his arms trembling from the exertion. He felt his body grow tired, the shield growing shaky as he fought with his oncoming exhaustion. But it was a losing battle on all fronts.  
The goo mixed with the heat and flames, reigniting the flames that tore through the metal frame of the engine, ignoring the drips of rainwater that only irritated the fire more.  
Sportacus had only a moment before his shield finally failed to cover his eyes.

The townsfolk were thrown backwards by the hail of metal shrapnel and glass shards that imbedded themselves into the plywood. A deafening blast echoed through the park, shaking down stands and cracking windows. Their ears rang as they tumbled across the grass, many drawing into themselves to protect their faces and necks from the falling debris.  
Stephanie pulled herself into a ball, the sound of metal crashing against asphalt ringing in her ears. She whimpered and bit her lip hard, drawing a little blood.  
Within the cacophony of crashing metal and the soundwave of the explosion, something stood out from the noise.  
It was like a mix between glass shattering and the chime of a tiny bell. And it sent tremors through Stephanie’s body.  
As the sounds of falling metal slowed, the loud cries and yowls of a feline replaced it. Stephanie was first to stand and, with shaking legs, she peered over the debris-ridden wood at the blast zone.  
Her face went pale as she took in the sight. Metal had scraped long stripes in the grassy field, pulling up the dirt and rocks that laid underneath. The metal embedded in the ground looked like twisted and deformed trees, and small fires dotted the fields. The stage had a huge crater within its center, and whatever remained of the engine’s core had fused into a ball of glass and metal. The smoke swirled around the blackened ground, and Stephanie coughed as the smoke slowly raised up into the air, clearing the area.

And once Stephanie could see, she gasped in horror, tears welling in her eyes.  
Laying a few feet away from the stage, his familiar patting feebly at his face, was Sportacus.

\--

The moment of the explosion was a blur for Sportacus.

He remembered the sound of the blast, leaving his ears hurting and ringing.

He remembered the feeling of something molten hot and sharp boring itself against his chest, sending him flying backwards and knocking the wind out of his lungs.

But most of all, he remembered the distinct sound that broke through the noise and chaos, and sent the most fear spiking through him.

Like glass shattering and a bell chiming.

Only one thing makes that sound when broken.

As soon as Sportacus hit the ground, the world lost all of its color, draining away into a slow-motion mess of black and white. The edges of his vision grew fuzzier, and the voices that cried for him grew distant. The sun blazed agonizingly bright, its rays sparkling against the newly gray sky.

And as he finally processed the full extent of what had happened, and what that meant for him, he felt like he was slowly sinking into the earth, his surroundings fading as his head grew hazy and detached. The world around began to lose its meaning as he faded.

\--

“SPORTACUS!” Stephanie cried, running through the broken barricade to the aid of her friend. She skidded across the grass and knelt by her friend, ignoring the warning growl from Circe. She shook Sportacus’s shoulder, trying to wake him. The witch didn’t stir. The ice grew in Stephanie’s heart as she shook him again, and tilted his chin towards her. She gasped as she looked into her friend’s eyes, usually alive with so much energy and enthusiasm, now glassy, dull, and unfocused. She noticed how much paler he appeared, and how his chest rose and fell in slow, shallow breaths.  
She turned back to the crowd of townsfolk, looking at the group pleadingly. “We need to help him! Someone call the doctors!” she begged.  
“I’m already on it!” said Jives, who booked it towards a payphone.  
Before Stephanie could say anything more, she yelped as something sharp dug into her forearm. Her head snapped back towards Sportacus, and instead came face to face with Circe, who was retracting her claws from her arm. The feline looked at her apologetically before shaking her head.  
It took Stephanie a moment, before she asked, “What? You don’t WANT us to call for help??” she asked in shock.  
Circe nodded, then pointed her paw towards Sportacus’s chest. Stephanie glanced around the feline.  
It was miraculous that somehow, despite being struck by a piece of flaming metal, Sportacus seemed mostly unharmed. While his uniform was singed and his skin was already starting to discolor from a nasty bruise, there were no gashes or blood to be seen. Instead, however, Stephanie spotted the glittering pieces that looked like pieces of ice that littered his chest. The ones that Circe seemed to desperately keep together with every breath Sportacus took. She reached towards the broken pieces, letting her finger graze across the surface of a larger piece. She shivered, feeling a tingling feeling race up her arm and lift the hairs on her arm.  
“Is…Is this the way to save Sportacus? We need to fix all of this?” asked Stephanie, gesturing to the broken crystal.  
Circe frantically nodded.  
Stephanie pursed her lips, and gave a determined nod. She looked back at the townsfolk. “Uncle! We need to get Sportacus back to our house!”  
Mayor Meanswell looked at his niece in disbelief. “What?! We can’t do that, Stephanie! Sportacus needs to get to a hospital immediately!”  
Stephanie shook her head furiously. “Circe doesn’t think so. She keeps pointing to his crystal. I think it has something to do with saving him!”  
“Are we seriously going to trust a cat with the fate of our town helper?” asked one mother with a sneer.  
Neil gave a slow nod. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Mrs. Wallace. I know that cat and him are thick as thieves, but this is very serious. He should go to the hospital.”  
Circe meowed, catching Stephanie’s attention. She looked at her pleadingly, her eyes showing the most sadness Stephanie had ever seen from an animal. She nudged her with her paw, and meowed pitifully.  
Stephanie furrowed her brow. She stared back at the townsfolk. “Please, everyone, we need to trust her on this. We’ve known Sportacus for a little while, but Circe’s known him for years. She’d know best out of all of us what’d help Sportacus right now.”

The town stayed quiet, until Ms. Busybody stepped forward.  
“I’m a little hesitant, but I think Stephanie’s right. We need to help get Sportacus back to the Mayor’s house.” She said, walking over to help Stephanie sweep the pieces of crystal into her pocket.  
The Mayor stepped forward next. “I’ll help carry him! Stephanie, you run home and get his bed ready. And grab the first-aid kit just in case!” he said in a voice more commanding than anyone was used to hearing from him.  
Stephanie stood to her feet and gave a determined nod. She turned on her heel and immediately booked it towards her home.  
The Mayor waved over a few more men to help lift Sportacus off the ground, and soon the crowd was heading on their way towards the Mayor’s little home.

Leading the charge was Circe, who quickly caught up and overpassed Stephanie, meowing at the group as they all rushed forward.

\--

If one wanted to kill an elf, there were two ways that Circe remembered.  
The first was the easiest, same as a human: mortal damage to the physical body. But given how athletic and agile most elves were, even laying a scratch was next to impossible unless you distracted them. And a distracted elf wasn’t especially common.  
The second was to attack an elf’s crystal. And while that method was foolproof, it was far harder to pull off.  
Circe remembered how strongly Sportacus emphasized the importance of keeping their crystals safe. Even separating an elf from their crystal was bad, as it was the equivalent of tearing one’s soul from their body. He’d told her dark tales about how elves, who’d often lost their crystals in fights or on explorations, would slowly unravel mentally until they were nothing but hollow shells of themselves, babbling endlessly about how they could hear their crystal’s whispers, but weren’t sure where they were.  
“That’s why we keep them so close to us.” Sportacus had explained. “It’s a part of us, as important as your heart is to you.”

Yes, but why keep it exposed then? Sportacus had given some half-hearted reason, supplied by his not always astute instructor Stump, about how he could either hide it in his pocket and forget about it, resulting in it being damaged that way, or he could fasten it where he always knew where it was, so he could be aware enough to protect it.  
Circe always found that explanation stupid. Elves should place their crystals somewhere more secure than _the front of their chests_. It would be too easy to damage there, given how many blows the chest sustains in fights or disasters. Sportacus was almost asking for something to go wrong, or for the thing to shatter.  
Circe would usually be inclined to crow about how correct she was, if she didn’t have her witch slowly dying right before her eyes.

A crystal being shattered is easily the worst thing to happen to an elf. Sportacus hadn’t told her much about what happens if that occurs, given that elves didn’t like to talk about that possibility, but he had noted something about slipping further away the longer the crystal remains broken, their soul and life being slowly dissolved until they finally passed.  
He also noted something about only one elf in existence surviving having their crystal broken, and he didn’t survive for more than three days.  
Circe tried not to think about that last part.  
Instead, she focused on running and sprinting over bushes and roads, meowing at the clambering townsfolk behind her to hurry. She knew they couldn’t understand her, but begging them to hurry somehow helped her. Perhaps because she felt at least she was trying as hard as she could to save him.  
They finally arrived at the Mayor’s home, where Stephanie threw open the door. Circe mewed at Stephanie, her head pointed at the stairs.  
“No time!” said Stephanie, pointing to the couch. Circe nodded and leapt towards the couch’s arm instead.  
The rest of the town soon followed, with the Mayor helping set Sportacus down on the couch. Circe looked at Stephanie expectantly, nudging her pocket until the pink-haired girl cradled the pieces of broken crystal in her hand.  
“We have to fix it, Uncle! Do you have super glue?” she asked.  
“Oh my, I think so! Let me check!” said the Mayor.  
“I have some too! I’ll go get it!” said Obtuse.  
Circe meowed frustratedly at the townsfolk, pushing them back out the door to not crowd the small living room. Stephanie looked sadly at her friend, whose breathing still seemed too slow. She shook his arm once more, pleading internally for him to leap to his feet, give his usual smile and reassure the town that he was okay, just shaken up or dazed by the explosion.  
Nothing.  
Stephanie felt something curl itself in her lap. She looked down to see Circe, giving her a look that was both sympathetic, and also said, “this isn’t going to be a regular thing, but right now we’re both scared, and I want to help you.” Stephanie smiled, and slowly petted Circe’ head, chuckling sadly as she felt Circe rub her cheek against her hand.  
They both looked up as the Mayor hastened into the room, a half-empty tube of Super Glue in his hand. He knelt by his niece and carefully applied thin lines of glue across the edges of the crystal.  
“And you’re sure this will help him?” asked the Mayor uneasily.  
Stephanie looked down at Circe, who gave her a single blink. She nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”  
  
The Mayor continued to carefully line the crystal pieces’ edges with glue, sticking similar pieces back together and holding them until the glue set. Obtuse soon joined him, offering another tube of glue as his own ran out. The Mayor gave his thanks as he continued to methodically stick the broken pieces together, trying his best to make the rough shape of a sphere.  
All the while, Stephanie and Circe watched anxiously. Circe leapt up from her lap and settled down on Sportacus’s chest. She patted at his face nervously.  
“Come on Sportacus, hang in there. You’ve managed much worse, believe me. You gonna let _this_ be what finally stops you?” Circe said, her voice sounding like a shaking army sergeant, trying his best to rouse his troops.  
Sportacus didn’t respond, his glassy eyes still fixed on the ceiling.  
Circe looked over when the Mayor held up his handiwork. She cringed. The crystal was being barely held together with messy lines of glue, and it looked like even a single breeze would break it apart once more. But it’d have to do. She directed the mayor to lay the crystal on Sportacus’s chest, ignoring how still his breathing was growing.  
She leaned down, staring deeply into the fractured, crystalline surface. She closed her eyes, focusing on finding the crystal’s essence. She dug through the environmental energies and the auras exuded by Stephanie, the Mayor, and Obtuse, until she found the weakened pulse of the crystal, a faint blue against a sea of grays and white.  
She whispered lowly, attempting to coax the crystal to build itself once more. The crystal flashed bright blue briefly, before settling to a dim clearness.  
“Awaken. Build yourself, like you did when you first came to be. Reshape yourself. You remember what you look like, now fix yourself!” urged Circe in a mixture of ancient words and English.  
The crystal hummed and began to glow a dim blue, the glue drying up as the crystalline surface burned, creating an uncomfortable and stifling warmth in the room. Stephanie, her uncle, and Obtuse stumbled back at the sudden energy bursting from the tiny crystal.  
“I-It’s like an oven in here!” exclaimed Obtuse.  
The Mayor looked at his niece worriedly. “Stephanie! Get behind me!” he said, pushing her behind him.  
Stephanie huddled behind her uncle, peeking over his shoulder as the heat intensified around the crystal, frizzing everyone’s hair.  
“Stupid thing, stop fussing! Just reform yourself!” Circe said, her composure breaking.  
The crystal shuddered and groaned, flashing a variety of blue hues. Circe’s whiskers curled and she bared her teeth at the little crystal.  
Finally, the crystal went quiet, the light dying away and leaving the room feeling empty. The three humans drew closer slowly, their eyes drawn to the now dull crystal that sat on Sportacus’s chest. Circe sniffed at the crystal, before slowly tapping it with her paw, holding her hopes close but nervously.  
The crystal chimed once more, and a piece fell free of the super glue, rocking back and forth on Sportacus’s chest.

Circe’s heart fell, and for the second time in her life, she felt completely and utterly helpless. She stared at the broken crystal in disbelief, a mixture of anger and sadness welling up in her chest. She stood stiff as a statue, unable to say or do anything in response.  
Stephanie looked at the cat. “It…did it work?”  
Circe didn’t respond.  
Stephanie’s face grew paler, and she looked at Sportacus. His breathing was near non-existent, and his eyes were still focused on the ceiling. She looked back at his familiar, seeing the despondence on her face. Her face fell, and she sunk to her knees. Despair washed over her as the reality began to sink in.  
The Mayor walked up next, placing a hand gently on his niece’s shoulder. “Stephanie, we really need to call the hospital now. Your idea was great, and I’m glad we tried it. But Sportacus really needs a doctor now.”  
Stephanie gave a slow nod, and looked at the cat sympathetically, who still had yet to move.  
“I’m not sure if she’ll let us.” Stephanie noted quietly.  
Officer Obtuse bit his lip and walked up to the motionless witch, and gently placed his hands around Circe. He recoiled and yelped, however, when an arc of electricity ran up his arms, giving him a nasty shock.  
He brushed his hands off on his uniform. “Nope, she’s definitely not moving.”  
The Mayor sighed and smoothed what remained of his hair, looking increasingly anxious as he stared at the witch. He watched how still the witch was, his skin looking sicklier and pale with each passing moment. He felt the ice settle in his chest, before he finally nodded.  
“Then…I suppose we should leave them be.” He said.  
Stephanie and Obtuse looked at him in disbelief.  
“W-We can’t just leave him, Uncle!” she protested.  
The mayor sighed exasperatedly. “Stephanie, I’m not sure what else to do! If his cat won’t move, and we can’t move her, what else can we do??”  
Stephanie shrunk back, a fear arcing through her. She’d never seen her uncle look so distressed. She averted her eyes back to Circe. The cat was still staring at the broken crystal. She slowly sat back next to Sportacus, gently giving his hand a squeeze.  
Officer Obtuse leaned in as the Mayor said something to him in hushed tones. The policeman looked at him gravely and gave a solemn nod. He gently pressed Stephanie towards the door.  
“Come along Stephanie, let’s give them space.” He said softly.  
Stephanie stayed put, and slowly shook her head.  
“I’m not leaving him.” She said.  
“We have to go, Stephanie. They need space.”  
“I’m not going to lose him. Not him too. I can’t.” She said quietly.  
“You won’t lose him. He’s going to be fine.” Said Obtuse weakly, giving her as good a smile as he could muster.  
Stephanie knew the policeman lied, but she also knew that protesting wouldn’t help the situation. She got up and allowed herself to be led to the door, giving one last mournful look at Sportacus as they went.  
The three finally exited, leaving the cat and her witch alone in the room, as they talked to the rest of the townsfolk.

Circe kept willing the crystal to fix itself, hoping beyond all hopes that the crystal would repair itself. She stared at the small orb, before finally sighing. She turned around, and looked at Sportacus’s face. She walked up, looking at the witch sadly.  
“You know, this…this isn’t how I figured our adventures would end. This…this isn’t fair. Wake up, you idiot. We have more to do, and you know it. So, get up.” She said bitterly with a weak laugh.  
Sportacus didn’t respond.  
Baring her teeth, Circe said, “Sportacus, you dummy, wake up. This isn’t t-that bad, and you know it. Get up.”  
Nothing.  
Eyes watering, Circe said angrily, “ **Wake up!** Sportacus, it’s not hard! **Wake. UP.** ” She grunted in frustration as she whapped his face with a clawless paw again, and again, and again.  
Still only silence.  
Circe finally broke, tears rolling down her face and dampening her fur. She shook as she stared at the witch.  
“T-This isn’t f-funny, Sportacus. I can’t…” she said, her voice cracking. She laid her head against Sportacus’s, giving him a weak nudge. “you can’t…please, just say something. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me you’re going to be okay.”  
Silence.  
Circe nodded, sniffling. She curled into a ball on his chest.  
“I’m not moving until you tell me you’re okay. You…you better wake up. I…you’re…I just…you can’t…” she said.  
Her eyes began to close as she continued to lay there, repeatedly whispering “wake up, wake up”, her tears dripping down and staining his shirt. She sniffed and continued to press her head against Sportacus’s chin. As she cried, she didn’t notice the shadows shifting on the floor, stretching towards the couch. She also didn’t notice the blanket of weariness that suddenly overtook her, until she was dragged into a deep sleep.

\--

It was like sinking into an impossibly deep lake.

That’s how Sportacus would describe how he felt at the moment. The world he inhabited seemed like a distant memory, with the sensations from it miles away.

It was disturbing how peaceful it all was, just allowing the strange, uniform sleepiness cloud his mind and pull him down further. Occasionally, he felt spikes of panic as he became aware of how far he was sinking, the distant glowing light growing dimmer as he fell. But overall, he felt calm. He was complacent with the shift in reality, and everything almost seemed right. This was okay. Everything was okay.

Until the bolts of heat rushed through the ocean, sizzling his skin and throbbing through his veins.

He would’ve screamed if he could’ve, the sensations prickling his organs and threatening to burst through his skull.

He heard screaming, but the words were indistinct. Distant pleadings, begging that he couldn’t understand.

Then silence again. Blissful silence and an absence of feeling.

He sunk further.

Sportacus’s eyes began to flutter shut as the gray sea grew steadily darker, the edges blurring into a thick, oily black color. Usually, that would be terrifying, but at the moment, it was almost comforting.

He wondered how the bottom of the ocean felt. He could finally find out where it ended.  
He closed his eyes as the black streamed and completely consumed the gray, the light above being swallowed whole.

Silence. Stilllness. Yet sinking. Endless dark.

…

No. Not endless. There was something there.

Feeling the light, Sportacus opened his eyes, squinting at the intrusion through the darkness.

It was small, small like a firefly, and it blinked like one too.

Yet, despite its insignificance in the sea of darkness, Sportacus felt something familiar. Something that dredged warmth, and yet sadness in his heart.

The smell of rain during a warm night, and of old books in a musty space. The taste of honey, milk, and cinnamon. The feel of smooth skin under his hands, and the sight of raven hair framed by moonlight.

“ _Robbie?_ ” thought Sportacus, his eyes fluttering open wide.

Then everything became engulfed in purple.

\--

Sportacus awoke with a gasp, shooting up into an upright position and disturbing the snoozing cat that sat on his chest. He panted, clasping at his chest as he tried to collect himself. His eyes darted around the room, slowly helping him understand where he was. Mayor Meanswell’s living room. That’s where he was. The sea of gray and black was replaced by the pale silver light of the moon, which illuminated the small living room and doused it in a tint of blue.  
He finally managed to slow his breathing to a manageable level. His mouth felt dry as he finally swallowed.  
The black and white was gone. The sinking was gone. But most notably, the purple was gone.  
Other than himself and the startled cat in his lap, the room was empty.  
“S-Sportacus!” sputtered Circe.  
Sportacus finally looked down at the shocked feline in his lap, her eyes wide with surprise, delight, and panic. Her fur stood up as she stared at him.  
“Circe?” he finally said.  
Circe couldn’t stop a relieved smile from crossing her face, her eyes watering once more. “You’re alive.” She said in a hushed voice.  
Sportacus gave her a half-smile. “Did I scare you?” he asked in a weakly joking tone.  
Circe laughed, and whacked his arm with her paw. “Just a little?? You…You really are a jerk, you know that?” she said, a tear escaping her.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “Is that a tear I see?”  
“No, my eyeballs are just sweating.” Circe said quickly, wiping away the not tear. She chuckled once more. “D-Don’t scare me like that, you dummy. Ask permission before you die next time.”  
Sportacus’s smile vanished. “…Was I that close?”  
Circe stopped, looking at Sportacus solemnly. She gave a slow nod. “Closest you’ve ever gotten, at least.”  
Sportacus gulped down a breath, and nervously felt at his chest. There was a nasty bruise, he could feel that from the stab of pain that reverberated through his body once his fingers met the mark, but he knew it’d heal. Still, the very concept, the idea that he nearly died hours earlier was…unnerving, to say the least.  
  
A flash of light from behind a couch cushion caught both of their attention. Circe hopped off Sportacus’s lap and knocked aside a pillow, uncovering the glowing crystal from its hiding space. Sportacus looked in surprise at the small crystal, and he carefully picked it up from its spot. He rolled it around in his palm, examining it for any cracks or scratches. He found nothing. The crystal was good as new.  
“Circe, did you fix this?” he asked.  
Circe shook her head sadly. “I tried, but it wouldn’t listen to me.”  
Sportacus continued to roll the crystal in his hand. It glowed a bright blue, but within the blue, Sportacus thought he spotted thin threads of purple around the surface, like magical scars of some sort.  
He raised his eyebrows. Circe reacted in similar fashion once she also noticed the purple.  
“Did…?” she began to ask.  
Sportacus closed his hand around the crystal, and carefully stuffed it into a small pocket. He gave a nod. “Circe, did you see who healed my crystal? Or more, did you see him?”  
Circe shook her head. “I don’t know how, but I fell asleep. If he was here, I didn’t see him.”  
Sportacus bit his lip and furrowed his brow in frustration. His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything at all that might give a clue as to where Robbie was.  
Nothing seemed out of place.  
Except…on the ground, sat a leaf.  
A leaf with edges that curled in on itself and, once Sportacus knew about its presence, made his mustache frizz from the magic that exuded off the plant. Getting up carefully, Sportacus gingerly picked up the leaf, examining it cautiously. Indeed, this leaf was filled to the brim with magic so strong, Sportacus couldn’t hope to discern where the magic might’ve come from.  
He recognized the leaf from somewhere, but where?  
…of course.  
Pocketing the leaf, Sportacus shakily stood to his feet. Circe looked at him with concern and confusion.  
“Sportacus? What are you doing? Don’t you need to rest?” she asked.  
Sportacus looked back at his familiar. He held up the leaf for her to see. “That can wait. For now, I’ve got to go.”  
“Why? Because you found some crummy old leaf? There’s plenty of them outside.”  
“No,” said Sportacus, with a hopeful smile. “Because I think this is our first clue to where Robbie is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from my grave*
> 
> I'M ALIVE AND THIS FIC IS STILL ALIVE! APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG SPAN OF TIME, LIFE GOT CRAPPY AND BUSY ALL OF A SUDDEN AND I HAD NO CONTROL OVER IT BUT THINGS ARE CALMING DOWN AGAIN I THINK SO UPDATES SHOULD BE NORMAL AGAIN SOON.
> 
> Also, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Not sure how I feel about the Trixie part yet, but hopefully it'll grow into something good. I'll make it work XD sorry for the potential feels.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and being patient with these erratic updates!
> 
> *buries self once more*


	13. Secrets of the Forest

“Sportacus, no! If you think I’m going to just let you walk out that door, you’d better think again!” Circe protested angrily.  
Sportacus looked at his familiar pleadingly. “Circe, I have to go! This might be our one lead to find Robbie, and if it’s there I’m going to take it!”   
“Yeah, and that’s great, but did you forget that little fact that you _almost died_ just a few minutes ago?? And now you want to dive head first into not just any forest, but a forest that seems to be near oozing with powerful and unstable magic?” Circe said.  
Sportacus nodded sagely. “I know it’s going to be a risky mission.”  
“Understatement of the frickin’ year.” Circe said with a glare.  
Sportacus frowned. “But this is the best hint we’ve gotten to where Robbie is. It’s clear that he’s not completely hostile to me, if he really did heal my crystal.” He held up the leaf again. “This might be him giving us a trail to find him.”  
“Or, it could’ve just stuck to his pant leg or something.” Circe pointed out. “It’s not necessarily a sign of anything. That’s all speculative.” She narrowed her eyes at the witch. “But what _is_ known for sure is that you, Mr. Sleepy-I-Almost-Flew-Into-A-Powerline and Mr. I-Just-Survived-Nearly-Having-My-Soul-Be-Disintegrated, are in the worse possible condition to tackle wild magic. Most magic users at full strength wouldn’t even go _five feet_ into a forest like that.”  
Sportacus bit his lip. “I know.”  
Circe looked wearily at the elf. “Then why? Why go now? Why not rest first and then go after him, if that’s what you decide to do?”  
Sportacus’s eyes took on a sad look. He quietly responded, “Because I don’t know how long a clue like this will remain fresh. I don’t know what Robbie is planning, but he might not stay in one place too long. And if that’s the case, I can’t just ignore this. I have to see him, Circe.”  
Circe’s lips drew into a thin line, her face reflecting the knowledge that this debate was a losing battle. Her ears laid flat against her head as she said, “I know you do, but…Sportacus, I nearly watched you die. As a friend and your companion, I can’t just let you run straight into danger again. Not in good conscience, anyways.”

Sportacus looked at her sympathetically. He gently petted his familiar’s head, watching her close her eyes and sigh tiredly.  
“I know I can’t stop you.” She finally admitted. “Just…please be careful, okay? And turn around as soon as things get too hairy in there.”  
Sportacus smirked. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worried about me.”  
Circe cocked one eye open. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still reeling over the whole “you almost died” thing.”  
Sportacus chuckled and hugged the cat carefully. “I promise I’ll be careful. And while I’m gone, promise to look after LazyTown for me?”  
“Of course.” Circe responded. As soon as Sportacus pulled away, she gave him a weak grin. “And if you do find the Noodle Man, give him a swift kick in the butt for me. To pay for making you traverse a treacherous forest just to talk with him.”  
Sportacus laughed, petting his familiar one more time before he jogged towards the door.  


As soon as he opened the door, Sportacus was zeroed in upon by several dozen goggling eyes that stared at him in disbelief.  
Sportacus paused, looking with apprehension at the sea of shocked faces. He gave an awkward smile as he finally said, “Uh, hi everyone!” He gestured to himself. “Looks like I’m all better now, huh?”  
Stephanie was first to speak, stepping away from the crowd with a look of relief and tearful joy in her eyes.   
“You’re okay.” She finally said quietly.  
Sportacus looked at her with a warm smile. “Pretty sure I am.” He said with a laugh.  
Stephanie said nothing, but instead responded by tightly hugging the witch, burrowing her face into his uniform.  
Sportacus, at first stunned, soon responded by smoothing the girl’s hair and hugging her back.  
“I thought you’d died.” Stephanie said, her voice muffled by the fabric.  
Sportacus gave her a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry I panicked you.” He said with a sad half-smile.  
Stephanie looked up, her eyes still wet with tears. "I-I just...how? Uncle was...he was about to..."  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. "About to what?" he asked.  
Stephanie gave a hollow chuckle and shook her head. "D-Doesn't matter now. You're okay, and that's what matters."  
Sportacus gave a weak smile and ruffled her hair. "I am, thanks to Robbie."  
Stephanie gave a questioning look. "Robbie? How?"  
"Didn't you see him?"  
  
Stephanie shook her head, her eyes looking down at the ground thoughtfully. She dug through the last few minutes, trying to remember if she'd seen the elusive, lanky man. He wasn't exactly easy to miss, yet...it was like there was a space in her memory. A blank spot where something should obviously be, but there was nothing. Concern flashed upon her face momentarily, before being replaced by a uniform calmness.  
"Sorry Sportacus, I didn't see him." she answered.  
Sportacus had noticed how her concern was quickly extinguished, and bit his lip at the change. He looked up at the townsfolk.  
"Did anyone see Robbie enter or leave the house?" he asked.  
All of the townsfolk looked thoughtful for a minute. And just like Stephanie, they all seemed panic at the blank spot, before their worry was smoothed over by a blank expression and a far too easy apologetic look.  
"I'm afraid none of us saw Mr. Rotten, Sportacus." the Mayor said.  
Sportacus decided not to press any further. He knew exactly was going on, and because of that he knew that asking the townsfolk to think any harder would just create a wave of migraines in the unknowing populace. Now he was just left with the question of _why_ Robbie would go as far as glamour the entire town to hide his presence.  
He gave a small smile. "That's okay, I think I know where he is." he said, giving Stephanie a pat on the head before moving away and through the crowd.  
Ms. Busybody was the first to protest, grabbing the witch's shoulder. "Sportacus, dear, where are you going? Don't you still need to rest?"  
Sportacus gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, and I won't be gone long."  
"B-But where are you going?" asked Pixel.  
Sportacus pointed towards the woods around the outskirts of town. "Just through the woods. Shouldn't be gone too long, since they aren't that thick."

The townsfolk looked shaken by Sportacus's answer. A low murmur hovered over the crowd.  
Sportacus's smile vanished. "I mean, it shouldn't be a problem, right?"  
The Mayor stepped forward. "Sportacus, _no one_ goes into the LazyTown forest. There's rumors that something...strange exists in those woods."  
Sportacus's eyebrows raised. "Like a monster?"  
"Not quite." said Neil, shaking his head. "More like a presence. Whatever it is, it drives away anyone stupid enough to try and hike through it. Last person who tried said it was like the trees were infuriated with everyone. Wouldn't let anyone through."  
Sportacus mulled over the information and gave an uneasy look towards the woods. He would be lying if he said he hadn't felt an off-putting presence eminating from the trees, something that made him feel ill. He couldn't put a finger on it, but he knew whatever it was wasn't friendly.  
He looked down at his pocket, glancing at the dried leaf he still carried. He fumbled with it, allowing the violent and chaotic magic dance around his fingertips, leaving them feeling numb and slightly locked. He shuddered, making his decision.  
Giving the townsfolk a shakily reassuring smile, he said, "Thanks for letting me know. At least now I know what I'm getting myself into."  
The townsfolk looked aghast.  
"Sportacus, you can't - " started Kaya, before she was stopped by Evie.  
"You really have your heart set on going through the forest, huh?" said Evie.  
Sportacus gave a single nod.  
Evie sighed and looked at the townsfolk, who gave her a worried look back. The Mayor decided to speak again.  
"Then...if we can't get you to change your mind, please be careful. No one has tried to traverse those woods in years. If it gets too tough, please turn back immediately. LazyTown still needs you, Sportacus." he said.  
Sportacus smiled and nodded. "I promise to be careful."  
Stephanie passed through the crowd, looking at the witch worriedly. A few of the other kids, including Pixel, joined her, looking at their hero with tearful nervousness.  
"Make sure you come back, okay?" asked a smaller boy named Tommy.  
Sportacus gave him and the other children a smile. "I promise."  
"Pinky swear?" asked a girl named Sophie.  
"Pinky swear."  
The children nodded at his answers.  
Sportacus turned and prepared to run towards the outskirts of town, before he heard one last voice from the crowd.  
"Good luck, Sportacus." Stephanie said quietly.

Sportacus gave one last look back, and with a weak smile said, "Thank you, Stephanie."   
Then he bolted towards the forest.  


\--

Ziggy skipped down the lane, happily licking his lollipop as he made his way home. Today had been very fun. After they’d pulled off their pranks, Ziggy and his friends had run to Stingy’s house, where they’d played with Stingy’s pony before relaxing in his home movie theater, watching old cartoons. A perfect day, by all accounts, in Ziggy’s book. He was a little later than usual getting home, but he hadn’t gotten a call from his mother so he assumed she was out and, thus, he could get away with coming home late.  
He skipped down the road, slowly momentarily as he passed a rather large piece of scrap metal sitting in the middle of the street. He looked at it questioningly, before continuing on his way.  
Then he saw another piece of scrap metal, this time mixed with a pile of splintered wood.  
Ziggy felt a little more worried at the sight.  
Then another.  
And another.  
And yet more still.  
Ziggy stopped in his tracks, looking at the wave of broken metal and splintered wood that littered the streets. His heart dropped as he took in the sight. What happened?  
More slowly, Ziggy walked towards his home. He passed by Officer Obtuse, who was distracted with taking notes of the various destroyed windows and spare pieces of scrap metal. Ziggy picked up the pace.  
He finally made it to his home, where he saw that indeed his mom and grandmother were inside. He cringed, then snuck his way through the front door. Miraculously, Miriam and Ziggy’s grandmother didn’t immediately interrogate Ziggy for his late return. Instead, he peeked around a corner, and saw his mother looking dazedly at the table.  
“Dear, it’s okay. Everyone’s okay now. Sportacus is fine and no one else got hurt.” His grandmother said calmly to Miriam.  
Sportacus? What had happened to Sportacus?  
Miriam looked at her mother, her face pale as snow. “It just…what happened? All that metal, the explosion…” She shivered as she looked back at the table.  
Ziggy’s grandmother hugged Miriam, and rocked her gently.  
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I know today was a lot, but it’s okay.” She cooed softly.  
Miriam just stared at the table.  
Ziggy ran to his room, not hearing if his mother or grandmother called for him. He ducked under his covers and looked fearfully in the direction of his window.

He knew his mom and grandmother were at the festival. He knew that him and his friends had sabotaged some of the inventions.  
He knew that potentially one of the inventions could’ve exploded, but never thought they would.  
He knew he had to tell Stingy and Trixie.  
But without a phone, how could he? And he couldn’t sneak out again.

He shook and trembled under his covers, taking in the gravity of the situation. He wouldn’t get much sleep that night.

\--

The grass rustled past Sportacus as he finally reached the edge of the forest. He stopped, staring into the dark depths of trees and brush. A wind kicked up, blowing through the boughs and shrubs, that created a haunting whistling that mixed with the thick aura of magic that encompassed the woods. The sensation hit Sportacus’s face, and he reflexively took a step back, flinching at the sharp breeze. It was like the gusts of wind during a particularly cold snow storm. A snow storm in below zero temperatures, that is. It prickled Sportacus’s cheeks and nose, and left him feeling unsteady.  
Once the wind died down, Sportacus opened his eyes again. He considered, for a moment, turning back around and heading back to LazyTown. They did still need his help, after all. And he wouldn’t be much help dead or hopelessly lost in a most likely enchanted forest.  
But his fingers met the dead leaf in his pocket once more. And he thought about Robbie again.  
He thought about his smirk, and the way the wind ruffled his well-kept black hair.  
He thought about his destroyed wings and the look of fear and hatred in his eyes.  
Determination flourished on Sportacus’s face. He had to find him, no matter what.  
Steeling himself, he charged into the woods.

For the first hour of running, Sportacus didn’t feel much different in this forest than he did in normal, non-enchanted woods.  
Yes, there was an undercurrent of something within the trees. Something off and overall foreign, but Sportacus didn’t feel too odd running through their territory.  
The trees seemed mostly normal, growing up into the sky and stretching their branches out like a floating blanket of leaves.  
The creeks and rivers ran energetically through gullies and dips, splashing their cool water up and onto the beds of fluffy moss and sandy dirt.  
Tiny creatures, like squirrels and chipmunks, darted past rocks and under bushes as Sportacus ran past.  
He knew that this wasn’t where Robbie was. The magic in this part of the woods was tame. Stronger than a normal forest, yes. But tame.  
Where the leaf had come from, the magic was wild and violent. Almost hateful, and definitely chaotic.  
And if Robbie had tracked in that leaf, Sportacus would have to direct himself towards the heart of the magic, deeper in the woods.  
He’d have to do that, even with the little voice inside him begging him to turn around immediately and head home. For once, he’d have to ignore his intuition, and charge head first into the most dangerous place any non-fae magical being could go into.  


Pushing past an overgrown circle of bushes, Sportacus ran forward until he stopped dead in his tracks, feeling a cold shiver nearly overtake him and send him sprawling onto the ground.  
It was like a wall of pure magic. He knew he was in the right place.  
This was where the faerie boundary began.  
Sportacus took a much more tentative step forward, his eyes darting around wildly to look for any traps or thralls that might ensnare him and kill him before he got even the chance to react. He’d been taught in school that faeries were fiercely territorial. Even the peaceful, friendly Seelie fae were notorious for their charms and traps that would send even the strongest warrior running endlessly in circles, screaming that invisible wasps were stinging him, before falling dead on the floor after a heart attack or his legs shut down. Or ones that would drag them underground and suffocate them on soil and roots. Or, worse, the hexes that create splitting headaches until your eyes and ears bleed, and you slowly die from your brain bleeding out.  
Sportacus decided to stop thinking about those traps, especially after he noted that nothing happened with his first step.  
Or the second step.  
Or the twentieth step.  
Slowly, Sportacus let his guard settle, and instead let confusion take its place. None of the old traps or charms were in place. Yet, there was an overall strong and suffocating atmosphere of untamed magic. The magic was still running strong, and something was mixing uncomfortably with the atmospheric power, but what?  
He continued to walk through the forest, looking uneasily at his surroundings. It was clear that some powerful magic had twisted the plants in this part of the forest. Tree roots corkscrewed into the earth, and stretched further than normal, tangling themselves with other trees’ roots, creating a celtic knot-like mess of tree roots. The bark was tinted a dull purple, rather than brown, and seemed to grow taller than the trees at the edge of the forest. Or perhaps it was just Sportacus’s mind. The flowers seemed to moan and whisper wearily as Sportacus passed, their heads bowing towards him in a near pleading and warning gesture. Sportacus shuddered, and pushed a wiggling vine out of his way as he passed. He also noticed how each step seemed more labored, like he was pressing against a weight with every step. He realized why once he looked down, seeing how the grasses wrapped and gripped his ankles and boots. His face paled, and he quickly ripped his feet away from the clingy grass, leaping towards a spot of open dirt a few feet away.

Sportacus panted, and looked fearfully at the grass that seemed to be crawling towards him. The moans and cries of the flowers grew louder, their little petals fluttering and beckoning him forward.  
His eyes were wide as dinner plates. He knew that this forest would be troublesome to cross, potentially even dangerous. But this? This was beyond him. These weren’t traps or tricks set by fae, at least none that he’d ever heard of. He’d be able to sense fae magic if that were the case. It was clear that magic permeated every inch of this part of the forest, and it was clear that the magic (mostly) wanted him gone. But why?  
He was so busy with his pondering, with his fearful goggling at the moaning flowers and clinging grasses, he missed the creaks and groans behind him, and the clicking and stretching of wood.  
Sportacus finally looked back, and before he could react, he felt something snap across his chest, entrapping his left arm and pinning it to his side. Quickly, Sportacus began to rip and dig at the branch, pulling off pieces of bark and moss with every attempt. He thought of flames and the sun as he slapped the tree branch, setting it aflame with bright, blue flames. The tree groaned and croaked, releasing more thin tendrils and branches towards the captured witch. Sportacus gasped as he felt the limbs wrap around his legs, tugging him backwards. More branches grabbed and tugged at his chest, causing Sportacus to cry out as they brushed against his bruise. The tree grabbed his free arm and wrenched it away from the first branch. Sportacus looked back as he felt another branch cross across his shoulder, seeing the opening cavity in the tree. His pupils shrunk, and he struggled more with the tree as he was pulled closer. He shouted more spells and tried to disrupt the tree’s attempt to swallow him whole, but to no avail.

Within minutes, he was pulled into the tree’s trunk, and the bark closed around him.

\--

Officer Obtuse wiped the sweat from his brow as he stopped his work.  
He glanced down at his notebook.  
In total, fifteen windows had been broken, and around thirty pieces of scrap metal were accounted for across town.  
He furrowed his brow and looked tiredly at the notes. This was a far greater mess than he could’ve imagined, and he only felt wearier as he thought through all the steps that’d need to happen to fully clean up everything in the town.  
“Oliver?” asked the Mayor.  
Obtuse looked up from his notes and curtly nodded at the Mayor.  
“Mayor Meanswell.” He said.  
“Just call me Milford, Oliver.” The Mayor said tiredly.  
The policeman gave him a chuckle. “On first name basis, are we? Quite a change in our relationship, Ma-Milford.”  
The Mayor didn’t seem to find it amusing. He just sighed. “I guess I’m too tired for formalities right now.”  
Obtuse’s smile fell. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Milford. We’ll get to the bottom of this by the end of the week at latest. Not too many suspects in town.”  
“I’m not worried about that.” Responded the Mayor.  
The officer looked surprised.  
“Then, what troubles you?”

The Mayor looked up at the starry sky.  
“Much more. Oliver, once this is solved, it’s not really solved. LazyTown is different after this. It always will.” Said Mayor Meanswell quietly.  
The policeman looked worriedly at the mayor.   
“Milford, do you need a drink? You seem very shaken up.”  
“I’m fine.” Said the Mayor quickly. He turned away. “I should get back to Stephanie. She isn’t taking this very well and I need to be there for her.” He said, walking away briskly.

The officer looked sympathetically at the mayor as the man disappeared around the corner.  
“Good luck.” He said, before returning to his patrol.

\--

All that Sportacus could see was darkness.  
All he could smell was the pungent stench of rotting wood, grubs, and his own sweat.  
All he could hear was the soft croaking of stretching branches and the occasional shuffling of leaves outside the trunk.  
It was claustrophobic, and he could hear his heart beat in his chest as he struggled against the branches entrapping him.  
He was panting frantically, trying desperately to weaken the hold he was trapped in, his eyes darting around to look for an opening to at least regain his senses.  
There was nothing, and nothing he did helped.  
Tears welled in Sportacus’s eyes as he let himself go limp. The branches tightened slightly around his arms and legs. He forced himself to keep his mouth shut as he felt something pricking at his cheeks. Not forcefully, but just enough to give him the idea of what they were doing. No doubt it was additional branches or roots, trying to pry his mouth open and force themselves down his throat, preparing to suffocate him…  
Sportacus decided to try and not think about that. He had enough on his mind that was sending terror down his spine. Thinking about how much he wanted to cry and scream would only make things worse.  
His eyes trailed up towards his right arm, which was extended out to his side, being pulled by the tree’s inner branches right against the tree’s inner wall.  
Given how wide the cavity would have to be to accommodate Sportacus, he was shocked how cramped it was inside the tree’s trunk.  
He flexed his arm, and to his surprise, he felt his arm shift under the grip of the branch. The movement, of course, was followed by thin, finger-like tendrils wrapping weakly around his bicep and forearm. But still, he could move his arm. Only that one arm, but it was still better than nothing.  
Keeping his mouth shut, he tried to force his thoughts once more towards fire and heat, clenching his fist tight, when he stopped. Mournfully, he remembered that with so little room, any attempt to free himself with magic would inevitably put himself in dire danger. Lighting a fire spell in here would effectively doom himself to being burned alive. He opened his hand again and went slack once more. He had no more ideas of how to get free.  
He closed his eyes, feeling the hopelessness of the situation wash over him. He’d never find Robbie. He’d never be able to talk to him, try and help him with whatever demons are bothering him and driving him away. Never be able to say…do…

…

Something flashed above him.  
Sportacus opened his eyes and craned his gaze upwards, following the flashes of light that briefly illuminated the inner trunk. He struggled against his bindings, lifting himself up until he finally caught sight of something glorious and golden.  
It looked like a fruit of some sort, or perhaps a bulb of light. Like the ones at Christmas, but much bigger. Probably as big as a fist, Sportacus would guess. It was surrounded with thick roots that cupped it and held it fast in the center of the trunk. Periodically, the thing would illuminate the tree with a flash of golden light, before going dark once more.  
And with every flash, Sportacus shivered. He knew that sensation, though it’d been years since he’d last felt it.  
It couldn’t be that though.  
Could it?  
Part of Sportacus hoped that his senses were incorrect.  
Sportacus struggled once more with his restraints, reaching up towards the glowing and pulsating bulb that was held above him. The tree fought with his attempts, continuously pulling him back. He winced as he felt the tree squeeze his legs and chest, but still he continued. He cringed and grunted as he reached as far as he could, his fingers grazing against the smooth, glassy surface of the bulb. Much to his surprise, the “shell” was pliable, and it dipped with each press of his fingers. His hand swung weakly at the bulb, grasping at mostly air as he scrabbled for the bulb. The roots and branches around his torso and legs were growing more numerous. A brief glance down at himself made Sportacus realize that he couldn’t see his own body anymore amidst the cocoon of entangling branches.  
With one last grunt of effort, Sportacus strained up towards the bulb, finally gaining purchase on the thing with the tips of his fingers. Shutting his eyes, he opened his mouth only long enough to say:  
“Break.”

And then everything became flooded with light.

Sportacus felt himself being thrown backwards, an eardrum-piercing wail and blast echoing through the air. Splintered pieces of the tree sailed through the open air before crashing down into the glade with a thunderous crash. Sportacus landed and tumbled across the lawn, still covered in his wooden suit. The presence of a large rock stopped his roll, and Sportacus felt the air be blown out of his lungs as he finally stopped. He panted, sucking in deep breaths of fresh, clean air. He coughed and choked, releasing the trapped sawdust and stale air from his chest. Through bleary eyes, he looked back at his former tree prison, and gaped. The tree was broken into pieces. What remained of the trunk looked like a sculpture of a wave, with its bark flayed out to its sides. The entire inner layer of the tree was decimated, turned into chips across the grass.  
Forcing himself upright, Sportacus went to work removing the branches that still held him fast in a grip. He uttered words for breaking and snapping, feeling relief as the pressure on his chest and limbs was released with every broken branch. Several minutes later, and the only sign that Sportacus had been trapped by an evil, magic tree was the embedded bits of wood still stuck in his uniform. He stood to his feet, looking at the wooden carnage around him. At that moment, he remembered the bulb he’d stolen from the tree. He opened his palm, and stared at the object in his hands. At first, he couldn’t tell what it was, mostly due to his still watery eyes and the adrenaline pumping in his system. But it didn’t take long for him to regain his senses.  
Once he had, however, he felt the air in his lungs turn to ice.  
Glittering in the pale early dawn like a fallen star, its surface dusty but overall still brilliant, was a broken crystal. Not his, but another’s.  
His eyes grew wide and it took all of his strength not to throw the shattered pieces across the forest. The pieces hummed weakly and briefly shone a bright gold color. Sportacus just stared in horror at the object in his hand, and he could feel himself tremble. His eyes shot up to the trees in the surrounding area. A horrifying thought crossed his mind: how many of these trees also held an elf’s crystal?  
He got the answer he never wanted once he heard the trees begin to creak and groan, their branches reaching out to him. With tears rolling down his cheeks, Sportacus outstretched his free hand and shouted, “BREAK!”  
The trees, one by one, burst into an amazing flurry of splinters and sawdust, their cores flying out into the grassy lawn. Again, and again, Sportacus shouted his spell, his grief mounting with every tree he destroyed. By the end of it all, six stumps sat with their top halves broken into millions of pieces, with smoke smoldering from the remains. And laying in the lawn laid an additional six broken crystals.  
Six. Sportacus sunk to his knees.  
He could hear the murmured cries of the crystals in his ears.  
When he went to look for Robbie, he never could’ve expected _this_.  
How could he?  
Flashes of blurry, colored lights, polluted his vision. Pink, green, more gold, silver, orange, red. Flashing on and off in a dizzying display that made Sportacus’s heart beat more in his chest, echoing in his ears. He crawled away from the shrieking crystals. He stopped as his hand met something smooth and cold.  
Turning around, he shakily picked up the object and rolled it around in his hands. It looked like a well-crafted star made of smooth river stone. Old, dried blood streaked across the stone. With his hand shaking, Sportacus looked back at the dead trees and the blinking crystals, his mind unable to process and comprehend the sight in front of him. It was all too much, too much at once. It made his mind swim.

All he could do was run.

Pulling himself onto his feet, Sportacus bolted away from the tiny glen, the stone still firmly grasped in his fist. No more trees moaned or reached for him, but Sportacus barely cared. He was still grappling with what he’d just witnessed.  
Faerie trees with elven crystal hearts.  
This was something that, before today, had to be impossible.  
Then again, it also explained some things.  
Of course the trees wouldn’t have tried to immediately kill Sportacus. It explained why even the tree that grabbed him merely imprisoned him, instead of immediately rip him to pieces. It explained why the roots that pricked his cheeks did it so feebly. It also made sense why the magic was so mixed up in the forest.  
Fae magic had mixed with elf magic, creating a chaotic and destructive influence that permeated every inch of the fae territory. The trees, normally enchanted to kill any intruders, would receive a mixed signal from the crystal’s magic. A clashing command of _kill_ and _protect_ , which cancels out to _restrain_.  
The only question he had left was what could’ve happened in Robbie’s court that six elves were killed as a consequence.  
Possibilities flooded his mind, but he didn’t want to consider any of them.  
All were too awful to be the truth.  
More prickly branches swept at his face as he ran past, feeling the grasses still grab at his ankle. He pushed every piece of flora aside, blindly running through the forest as he felt the magic grow soupier and nastier. He was running right at the core of the magic. More bushes and branches brushed and whacked at his body, though he barely paid them any attention. All he knew was he had to get away from the still screaming crystals. All he wanted was to find Robbie and get some answers.

Initially, he didn’t get answers. But he did get a rock tripping him while he was distracted.

Sportacus gasped and tumbled forward, rolling down and off a lip, launching him a foot into the air before he crashed down onto a bed of something soft and tickly.  
Grass, he soon realized. Just grass. Not killer possessed grass. Regular grass.  
He groaned, feeling at his chest as he sat up. He figured by that evening he’d be a patchwork of purple and blue, and he wasn’t looking forward to the chastising he’d receive from Circe about being careful. He dragged himself onto his knees, grasping his forehead as it sent a wave of pain through his skull. He could feel the beginnings of a goose egg form on the right of his temple. He blinked his eyes, trying to get an idea of where he was.  
The first thing he saw was a large rock standing like a monolith a few feet to the west. A tattered and weatherworn banner fluttered lamely in the breeze, its edges frayed and torn.  
Sportacus’s vision cleared, and he then noticed, barely, an overgrown path that ran parallel to the stone, leading down into a shallow valley that was dotted with indistinct shapes. Sportacus stood to his feet, and followed the abandoned footpath, hiking down the incline and through the grasses.  
He soon noted how unevenly the grass grew as he drew closer to the shapes in the distance. Some of the grass grew up to his waist. But as he hiked further along, he noticed that the grass grew shorter and shorter, until it barely swept by his ankles. This shorter grass also seemed to cover a different type of soil compared to the longer grass. This soil was more discolored, and teetered towards a grayer color than the dark brown dirt up the valley. Sportacus bent down and felt at the soil, seeing how the gray, chalky substance coated his fingertips.  
Ash.  
Sportacus immediately felt a weight settle in his stomach.  
The possibilities were dwindling as to why broken crystals littered the forest.  
He continued forward, passing by fields of short grass, until he finally reached what he figured was the main road. He stopped in his tracks, looking with a mixture of awe and horror at the sight.

At one point, the valley held what could be called a village. Now, however, what remained was a charred and sad shell of its former glory. Sportacus walked carefully through the empty streets, gazing at overgrown, stony foundations that held a vacancy for a home or store. Those that did still hold the remains of a building only held the burnt and tattered remnants of logs and beams, stained a black color and shaking feverishly with every breeze. Sportacus jumped as one wooden support crashed hard against its foundation, splintered into old and maggot-ridden pieces, and sent a cloud of dust and old ash into the air. Something clinked as Sportacus walked past, and he looked down to see a rusted and battered teapot lying on the ground. He kicked it gently aside, watching as it rolled and clanged against something else that was metal.  
A discarded sword.  
Sportacus’s face paled, and he quickened his pace. He passed by countless destroyed buildings and homes, each in varying states of repair from barely held together frames composed of charred wood, to a single standing broken beam in the middle of a smooth stone floor. He heard something ring in the distance, and he turned to see the only structure still standing in the valley town: a bell, built of bronze he believed, still hung from a rusted chain off a precariously standing wooden tower. The bell let out a mournful _clang_ as the wind blew through the valley, and the tower let out a low groan in response.  
And right below the bell tower, sitting with his legs folded neatly underneath him, was Robbie.  
Sportacus felt a wave of relief cross over him as he finally spotted the man. The relief, however, was short-lived, as he found himself suddenly remiss of what to say.  
He drew closer, and got a better look at the man’s state.  
Robbie still wore the outfit he’d worn on their night out, as made obvious by the torn back of his shirt, exposing the torn and burnt remnants of his wings to the elements. The sight still haunted Sportacus and sent a cold chill through his body. And even from the back, Sportacus could see how disheveled and unkempt Robbie looked, his pristine pompadour a ratty and curled mess on his head.

A pang of sadness and guilt ran through Sportacus, and as he opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , he came up empty.  
He had too much to say, if he were to be honest.  
He knew he should start with a “I’m so glad you’re okay”, and perhaps follow with a “what happened here” sort of question. Maybe then, if all goes well, apologize for not explaining his status as an elf, or instead ask what happened to his wings. And in the end, thank him for healing his crystal, and come up with something to hopefully mend the rift between them and, fingers crossed, at least establish their friendship once more.  
But nothing that Sportacus could say felt right to him. It all felt so empty and low, given what he’s witnessed. Given what he assumed happened in this village which, he was certain, was Robbie’s court.  
Given that last night together.  
But he had to try.  
“R-Robbie?” he asked nervously.  
The man didn’t move.  
Sportacus took another step forward and cleared his throat.   
“Robbie, I…I was hoping we could talk.”  
Nothing.  
Now Sportacus began to feel uneasy. “R-Robbie, are you awake? Are you okay?”  
Silence.  
Against his usual judgement, Sportacus reached out towards Robbie’s shoulder.  
“Robbie, please, I know you’re upset still, but please talk to – “

But Sportacus’s words fell from him as soon as his hand met the faerie’s shoulder.  
Once his hand touched Robbie, a shock of white magic laced up his arm, creating a spider web-like pattern up his forearm and bicep, the jolting buzz creating an overpowering hum in his mind.  
All Sportacus had the time to do was gasp, before his vision was encompassed in piercing, pure white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Circe: *wakes up from her nap* I don't know why, but I'm sure that Sportacus nearly died again. I'm gonna have to kick his butt once he gets home.
> 
> But in all seriousness, hope you guys are still enjoying this story! Next chapter is going to be a doozy, that's all I can say. Prepare tissues, I'll say that too. There's some heavy angst ahead.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	14. Scars

It was like he was floating in the depths of the ocean once more.

Glowing, glittering orbs of light danced around his head as Sportacus drifted through this empty space.

He blinked, and looked about frantically. Where was he?

Sportacus tried to remember what had happened just a bit before. He remembered the destroyed village, and seeing Robbie.

…

He looked so tired, didn’t he? And worn out, and sad. The thought sat with Sportacus.

…

He remembered touching his shoulder, and feeling magic lace up his arm.

Then white.

Now he’s here.

A ringing sound chimed through the space. Sportacus turned towards the sound, and saw someone.

A young boy with raven hair and a pair of paper-like, purple wings stood with his back to him.

Even without seeing his face, Sportacus knew who it had to be.

“Robbie?” he asked cautiously.

The young Robbie turned and looked at him, his sad gray eyes meeting his blue ones. Sportacus felt his heart drop as he looked into the young child’s face, filled with a quiet, almost contemplative understanding. The child raised his hands, his palms glowing a faint, purple color.

Around them, the scene began to swirl and shift, the blue colors mixing into murky oranges and browns. The young Robbie’s form began to fade, growing increasingly translucent with every turn.

Sportacus looked down once he felt a strange, fuzzy feeling, and found his legs vanishing as well. Any urge on his part to scream was immediately silenced by a short _shush_ from the young Robbie, who had pursed his lips and raised a finger. Sportacus clammed up, even as the fuzziness travelled up his body and to his chest, a strange nothingness encompassing his body. It was terrifying, but even if he wanted to scream, he couldn’t. The fuzziness climbed up towards his face, and he felt his thoughts go silent.

Right before his body completely faded away, he heard a small, whispering voice speak in his head.

_Watch, and listen._

//

The sound of a piercing scream roused Robbie from his sleep.

As he bolted up into a sitting position in his bed, fear and dread filled Robbie’s heart. His eyes shot towards the window, where the night sky was stained a blood orange color, embers and ashes rising into the air. Robbie fearfully drew his legs up into his chest, his breathing growing increasingly more shallow and rapid. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he watched a fireball come crashing down on his neighbor’s roof, igniting their house in a burst of flame. He shuddered in horror, watching through watery eyes as silhouetted figures fled the growing flames, their screams piercing the air.  
Up on the rooftops, Robbie could see the hazy silhouettes of other figures. Wingless ones. A few crouched atop the stable roofs, their gazes turned down to the streets below. He gasped as he saw the figures pull out something long and thin, made of metal that glinted and shone in the flickering fire. Their eyes would scan the panicking crowds before their bodies would stiffen. Robbie nearly jumped as one faerie attempted to escape, his wings unfurling as he leapt into the sky. Robbie’s heart froze as he saw the silhouette easily grab the faerie’s wing, swinging and throwing him down onto the rooftop. Another faerie flew up into the air, and was quickly struck down by a figure that came seemingly from nowhere. From his bedroom, he could hear the faerie pinned on the roof plead and scream as the figure raised his blade…

Robbie screwed his eyes shut and clasped his hands around his ears as he heard the faerie scream in horror, before going silent.

Robbie whimpered in his bed as fat tears rolled down his cheeks, blotting his bed sheets. He wanted this to all be a terrible nightmare, something he could awake from the next morning. But as the screams and crackling grew louder, he knew just how futile his wishes were. He curled up into a tighter ball to protect himself.  
_Creak…_  
The ceiling above Robbie began to groan. __  
Crack!  
Robbie was then suddenly thrown from his bed as a fireball came crashing through his roof, alighting his room and engulfing his floor in fire. His eyes shot open, taking in the sight of his bed becoming swallowed in flame, the tongues of the fire licking up and overtaking his walls and paintings. Robbie gasped, his wings instinctually unfurling as he fluttered up to the roof to avoid the flames and escape his room. He flew through the smoke and ash, gagging at the stinging and scorching fumes that scraped his throat and burned his eyes. Mother, where was his mother? Robbie feared for her safety; he had to find her and get her out. They had to find his father, wherever he was. Where was the window, or the door?  
He realigned himself, spinning himself towards where the light poured into his burning room. He flew towards his window, only to halt as a plume of fire overtook his window, cutting him off from the exit. He uttered a tiny curse in fae under his breath (he figured his mom would forgive him this once), and he looked around fearfully for the door. He spotted it on the other side, clear of flames, through the thickening smoke.  
He was almost halfway to his door before he heard something creak and break above him. He shrieked and attempted to fly away, to no avail, as more of his roof came crashing down on top of him, the burning roof scorching at his skin and wings.  
The pain was beyond description. Robbie shrieked at the top of his lungs as he collapsed onto his floor, feeling the searing heat press against his back, trapping his wings between two burning logs. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he choked on the thickening smoke, and he felt his gossamer wings curl and burn under the oppressive heat and scorching fire. He turned his head up towards his door, panicking as he looked frantically for his mother, his mind growing foggy and clumsy from the pain.  
“Momma! Momma!” he wailed, coughing on the smoke. His eyes watered as the heat continued to rise, stinging his corneas and making it painful to keep his eyes open. Closing his eyes and sobbing, he opened his mouth once more. “MOMMA!”

“Robbie!” screamed his mother. He could hear her bang on the door violently, trying to get through the melted lock and hinge.  
Robbie coughed harshly.  
“Momma! Help!” he screamed, clawing at his floorboards.  
He heard his mother curse as the door rattled and shook.  
“Sweetheart, hold on! I’m coming!” she said with as much composure as she could muster.  
Robbie sniffled, turning his attention to the melted doorknob. Even as he felt his magic slowly burn away, its essence growing faint in his body, Robbie cringed and swung his arm in the physical action for “open” as he whispered the fae word under his breath. Instantly the door fell to the ground, his mother’s form cloaked in shadow from the flames that burned behind her. She sprinted into his room and dropped down onto her knees. She thrusted her hand out, a gust of wind blowing from her hand as the flaming wood was flung off of Robbie’s back. She dragged Robbie close to her, pulling him into her arms. Robbie winced and cried as he felt his mother squeeze his wings by accident. He could feel his mother’s body tense as her hands traced the area around his back, and he heard her shudder and weep.  
“Oh Robbie…” she said shakily, giving her son a tight hug.  
“M-Momma? What’s wrong?” he asked tearfully.  
His mother pulled away, brushing the tears from her face. She looked down at her son, giving him a weakly reassuring smile as she brushed the tears from his face as well.  
“It’ll be okay, sweetheart. Let’s just focus on getting out of here.” She said in a soothing tone.  
Robbie nodded and clung to his mother’s dress.

Standing up, she held Robbie close to her chest to protect him from the flames that licked at her wings and feet, and the smoke that quickly began to fill up the room. She leapt out just before the room finally gave out, leaving Robbie’s room a tangled mess of flames and burning wood. Daimhin’s eyes darted around, seeing her home being engulfed in fire. She tried her hardest to ignore the pit settling in her stomach as she looked about. Jumping and hovering above pockets of fire and sliding past doors that splintered and burst from the encroaching fire, Daimhin escaped to the living room. She shrieked and gasped as a support came crashing down, breaking through the wood flooring and spreading more flames across the increasingly destabilizing building.  
“Stay calm, sweetheart.” She told Robbie, though at this point she wasn’t sure if she was reassuring her son or _herself_.  
Daimhin made a break for the front door, only to skid to a stop as part of the roof collapsed in front of the only exit. She cursed under her breath as she slowly stepped back into the burning living room. Her heart fell as she watched the fire draw closer, sealing them in the middle of the room. She glanced down as her son, whose face was buried into her chest. She could feel him shake with fear. She placed a single kiss on top of her son’s head, tasting a mixture of sweetness and smoke, as she examined her potential options. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a small hole in the wall. Small hole meant a weakened wall, which may be her best bet. Clutching Robbie close, she charged towards the wall, folding her wings in as she felt the wood crack and break from impact.  
The two tumbled into the lawn, Robbie coming loose from his mother’s hold. Behind them, their home finally gave in, and collapsed into a pile of burning rubble and ash. He rolled across the lawn, crying in pain as his back struck the ground. He shuddered as he saw his mother crawl towards him, looking at him with a concern only a mother could hold.  
“Are you okay, Robbie?” she asked in a hushed voice.  
Robbie whimpered and nodded. He gestured towards his back.  
Daimhin took a quick glance at her son’s back and winced. It was a charred red with spots of black, and his lovely purple wings had been burned down nearly to their root. Lovely, royal purple had been blackened to a dull, purplish-gray. She soothed her son by brushing back some of his hair.  
“Sweetheart, I know it hurts, but you must try to be quiet.” She said in a quiet voice. She picked up her son and held him close.  
“M-My wings…they’re…” Robbie sobbed, burrowing his face into his mother’s chest once more.  
She continued to stroke his head as she listened to him sob.  
“I know, Sweetheart, I know. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to – “ she said soothingly, stroking his head.

“Well, so you got out okay.”  
The cold voice sent Daimhin spinning around, her body tensing at the sight.  
Robbie turned fearfully away from his mother, looking at the figure addressing them.  
In the shadow of the fires, he couldn’t make out much. Only that she was tall, and was armed to the teeth.  
And she had pointed ears.  
Daimhin sucked in a sharp breath, and glared at the woman.  
“Leave us alone, _elf_. Haven’t you had enough death and carnage for one century?” Daimhin spat.  
The woman growled. “You lot are vermin and a danger to everyone.” She responded venomously. “We’re just getting rid of you all before you cause more damage with your existence.”  
Daimhin gritted her teeth. “I _think_ , you’ve got who’s the vermin mixed around.”  
The woman seethed, and pulled out two long blades from their sheaths.  
“You’ve sealed your fate, _faerie_.”  
Daimhin felt the anger burn in her heart. She gently set Robbie down on the ground, gently leading him away from her.  
“Momma, no!” begged Robbie, tugging on her skirt.  
“I’ll be okay, Robbie. Just go find your dad.” Daimhin said, her eyes never leaving the elf.  
Tears rolled down his face.  
“Momma…” he said worriedly.  
The elven woman smirked. “Better make your son run, honey. Don’t think I won’t get rid of him too.”  
Daimhin’s eyes widened. “You so much as touch a hair on my son, and I’ll rip you to pieces.” She said angrily.  
The woman laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”  
Daimhin turned away only long enough to lean down and kiss her son’s head, giving him a sad yet warm smile.  
“You need to leave, sweetheart.” She said softly.  
“No! I’m not leaving you!” Robbie protested.  
“This isn’t the time to argue, Robbie.” Daimhin said urgently. She snapped her fingers, forcing Robbie to skid backwards, his body pushed by an invisible force.  
He fought and tried to dig his heels into the dirt to no avail.  
The last thing he saw was his mother glancing at him, while the elven woman prepared her first strike.  
“I love you.” His mother mouthed to him.

As Robbie was thrown around the corner, he tumbled across the uneven road, away from the burning remains of his home. Once he’d finally stopped, he tried to bring himself to his feet. He wanted to run back, help his mother in anyway possible. He couldn’t let her lose.  
As he prepared to run, however, he froze at the sight of bright, yellow magic flaring against the broken fence, and a pained howl breaking through the din.  
He heard a struggle, a mixture of metal hitting stone and more magic blasts.  
Then nothing.  
He cowered under a broken barrel as he saw a figure leap into the sky. A wingless figure.  
No one else escaped the remains of his yard.  
It hit him all at once.  
“M-Momma…” he said tearfully, a couple of hiccupping gasps escaping his throat. He wanted to curl up into himself, but he knew he had to leave. He ran, even as his vision blurred with tears and his legs shook.

His feet, covered only in socks, quickly began to hurt as he tromped through the uneven and debris covered streets. He could feel rocks jab as his soles and broken glass scratch at his feet as he ran, swerving past and between panicking fae, many of whom were escaping their burning homes just like himself. Burning awnings and drapes flapped into the streets, which Robbie leapt to evade. Occasionally his eyes drew up towards the sky, seeing a few fae flying towards the moon and clouds, with all being struck down by the elven invaders.  
Amongst the smoke and dying fae, he saw one figure floating in one fixed spot.  
A man with flaming red hair and glowing eyes, flying on a broom. A golden sun broach glittered on his red cape.  
He stared at Robbie, until a pair of despairing voices caught his attention. Both the witch and Robbie’s eyes fell to a home in flames, a family of faeries all struggling to escape the fire and smoke. The witch only frowned, before conjuring another fireball and sending it flying straight at the house’s doorway.  
The family vanished from Robbie’s sight, swallowed by the heat and flames.  
Robbie screamed and ran the other direction, not daring to look back once.  
Robbie ran until he was stopped in his tracks as one faerie, who he recognized as a friend of his mother’s, fell from the rooftop, blood pooling from his back and dripping onto the dirt. Robbie gasped in horror and fell back onto his hands. He crawled desperately away from the dead faerie, his eyes still fixated upon the lifeless, open eyes of the man. He shrieked as he heard boots meet dirt behind him. He turned around slowly, looking straight into the gaze of an elf, his ears out and visible, a wicked smile on his face.  
“Close your eyes, little boy. This will be over soon.” Grinned the elf, as he raised a bloodstained axe up above his head.  
Robbie whimpered and stared in horror at the shining blade.  
Before the elf could strike, however, his eyes went wide with horror as his body rose up into the air. The elf dropped his sword as he dug feverishly at his neck, gagging and gasping as purpling bruises appeared on his neck. Without warning, the elf was then chucked into one of the burning buildings, breaking through a window and landing straight into the fire. Robbie blinked and saw the face of his savior.  
“Dad!” Robbie cried, scrambling to his feet and running towards his father.  
Glanni’s eyes grew wide as his son crashed into him, pulling him into a tight hug. He dropped the makeshift spear he held and returned his son’s hug.  
“Robbie, you’re alive! Oh, thank the spirits…” Glanni said, stroking his son’s head. Pulling away only slightly, Glanni asked, “Where’s your mother?”  
Robbie pulled away and looked at his father sadly, tears rolling down his face.  
Glanni’s face went ghostly white as tears pricked the edges of his eyes. He gritted his teeth and pulled his son back, crushing him against his chest, only loosening when he heard a muffled cry of pain from his son. His eyes fell to his son’s back, seeing the remains of his wings. He fought with all his might to not break down and cry. He opted, instead, to turn his gaze towards where the elves were running, brow furrowed and his lips twisted into an expression of rage.  
“YOU ÁLFAR WILL PAY, YOU HEAR ME?!” Glanni yelled.  
Robbie shook as he heard his father’s cry.

Glanni stood to his feet, keeping Robbie pressed close to him as he let his wings, fuzzy brown with pink eye-like spots, unfurl. Fluttering his wings, the two rose into the sky, high above the plumes of black smoke and the tongues of the fire. Robbie pulled away from his father’s clutch just enough to look down upon the smoldering remains of his village. He shuddered as the cries and screams shook his body, pulling more tears from his eyes.  
“Don’t look, son. Just try to think about fields of happy cows for the time.” Glanni said, smoothing his son’s hair. Glanni nearly jumped as a faerie near him was shot down by an arrow. He pondered using the same tactic he just asked his son to use.  
Another arrow flew past him, striking only the open air as it flew.  
Instantly, Glanni was on the defensive, and he looked over his shoulder only long enough to see a few Elven archers aiming from the rooftops.  
Glanni swung his arm at the elves, casting a barrier spell around the trio. The archers fired, but their arrows only harmlessly bounced off the glowing shield.  
Glanni grinned, then flapped his wings faster as he sailed up into the sky, towards the cloud layer.  
“Dad, where are we going?” asked Robbie.  
“I’m figuring that out right now.” Glanni said quickly. “Just away from here, that’s all I know. Once we’re somewhere safe, we can figure out what to do ne – “  
Glanni’s response was cut off by a pained yelp from him, as an arrow burrowed itself in his thigh.  
Gritting his teeth, Glanni hissed another curse under his breath. He fought with himself to not let go of his son and grasp at his leg. He held Robbie closer, hearing his son squeak with pain.  
“I’m sorry, Robbie.” Glanni said worriedly.  
“Hey! Fae!” a voice broke through the air.  
Glanni looked up and glared at a pair of elves flying in a small air balloon. Painted on the balloon was a golden sun.  
One of the elves lowered his bow, a wicked grin across his face. The other elf held up a knife as he prepared to leap from the basket.  
“Where do you think _you’re_ going?” asked the one with the knife.  
“Robbie,” said Glanni, letting one hand slip away to summon a small, glowing pink orb. “hold on tight.”  
Robbie nodded and grabbed more of his father’s shirt.  
Glanni uttered the fae word for “stop”, and swung his arm across the space in front of him. Instantly, the archer elf froze, his eyes widening as he collapsed in the basket. The other elf didn’t even give his partner another look before leaping out of the balloon, brandishing the silver knife. He aimed the knife at Glanni’s head as he yelled.  
Glanni tucked Robbie closer to his chest and swiftly cast a defense spell, creating a barrier around his fearful son. Glanni then charged at the elf, his hands outstretched and pointed at the elf’s neck. The two collided, Robbie only being saved from getting crushed by the defense spell. The faerie and the elf grappled in mid-air, Glanni pulling at the elf’s hair and holding his armed hand away from his body while the elf struggled. Glanni’s great wings beat at the air, their tips clipping the elf’s head.  
“G-Give it up, faerie! Lest I decide to take your son instead!” The elf threatened, lowering his knife.  
“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.” Glanni growled, reaching for the elf’s throat.  
Enough of an opening for the elf. He grinned and feinted to the side. He plunged the knife into Glanni’s abdomen, earning a pained shout from the faerie.  
“Dad!” Robbie shouted, looking up at his father. Robbie turned away and, clinging to Glanni’s shirt, he landed a back kick to the elf’s stomach with a shout.  
The elf swore loudly and teetered back precariously. Glanni took the moment to headbutt the elf, causing the warrior to lose his grip and slip away, tumbling to the ground.

“We did it, Dad!” said Robbie happily.  
His smile vanished, however, as he spotted how pale his father’s face grew, and how his flapping grew more and more out of rhythm. A thin trail of crimson stained the man’s clothes, and Robbie could feel his father’s grip loosen.  
“D-Dad? Dad, are you okay?” Robbie asked worriedly.  
Glanni was about to respond, but his response was cut off by another pained shout. Robbie gasped, seeing something swift fly past his vision. Another arrow, this one hitting his father’s wing. Immediately retracting from the wound, the loss of one wing sent Glanni and Robbie tumbling from the sky, plummeting towards the earth below.  
Robbie looked up fearfully at his father, uttering whimpers and gasping as the ground drew closer and closer, the rushing air stinging his eyes.  
“Dad! Please! Wake up!” he begged, looking at the ground with fear. He tried to make his own spell to cushion their fall, but his magic only fizzled in the night air.  
Finally, his son’s pleas broke him from his pained daze and Glanni, hugging his son closer, looked at the ground. He focused on thoughts of cushions, mattresses, crash pads, as he screamed the fae word for “brace”. Robbie and Glanni crashed into the ground, Glanni’s magic flickering as it slowed their impact. Not enough to prevent both of them from impacting with the earth, but enough to prevent them from dying from the fall.  
Robbie rolled away from his father’s hold, groaning as he felt the soreness run up his body. He slowly dragged himself back onto his feet, crawling towards his father.  
“Dad, are you okay?” he asked, his voice quivering.  
Glanni gasped and clutched his chest, feeling the adrenaline course through his body. He flinched, feeling his stab wound burn against the dirt. He sat himself up as well as he could, and gave his son a weak smile.  
“Of course, I’m fine. You don’t think your old dad would be finished from that, do you?” he asked with a laugh.  
Robbie laughed fearfully, a few tears rolling down his face. “To be fair, we fell quite a way.”  
Glanni simply shrugged. “Eh, only around a few hundred feet. Child’s play.” He said.  
Robbie chuckled and gave his father a hug.  
“You were very brave, pumpkin. Remind me to get you some cake once we find a not burning civilization.” Glanni said with a shaky smirk.  
“Chocolate cake?” Robbie asked hopefully.  
“As if we’d have any other.” Glanni said, poking his son’s nose.  
Robbie chuckled wearily, for a moment forgetting the horrible scenario they were still stuck in. The pain still emanating from his back, however, brought him back to reality.  
“Where do we go now?” he asked worriedly.  
Glanni looked unsure. “With one bum wing? I’m not sure, but we’ll have to go on foot. I heard there’s a human town not too far from here. We could hide out there for a while, until we get a better idea of – “

“There! Thought I saw some filthy faeries stumble over here!”  
The shout sent ice into both Glanni and Robbie’s hearts. They turned, their faces paling at the sight of six elves charging towards them, brandishing an array of different weapons, with murder in their eyes.  
Glanni’s pupils shrunk, and Robbie let out a fearful squeak.  
The young faerie slowly lifted his hands and tried to will whatever magic he had left to create a barrier or perhaps a small push spell. His magic fizzled once more, and Robbie cried over his bad luck.  
Glanni, first, looked at the elves, before his attention shot back towards his son. There was a chance he could shadowstep away from the hoard, but he wouldn’t be able to do it with Robbie. And his son’s magic was handicapped, so he couldn’t even follow his father. Fighting was an option, but he didn’t want Robbie to get caught up in the battle. Looking back and forth, his thoughts began to whirl, before something clicked. Pursing his lips, Glanni came to a decision. Shakily, he stood to his feet, staring down the approaching elves.  
“Son…” Glanni began to say.  
Robbie’s face grayed. He knew what his father was about to do. “Dad, no…”  
“I made your mother a promise long ago, that I’d keep you from harm…”  
 “No! There’s too many! You’ll die!” Robbie said, his voice cracking.  
Glanni gave his son a weak half-smile, showing off his sharp teeth.  
“Come on, Robbie. You really think I can’t take these six on? Please, I’ve got this in the bag.” He partly fibbed. He patted his pocket, partly revealing a small, star-shaped stone. “Also remember? I’ve got your lucky charm. I’m all set.”  
Robbie looked unconvinced. Tears continued to roll down his cheeks as he stared at his dad.  
“Don’t make me leave you too…” he sobbed.  
Glanni’s smile faded. He leaned down and wiped a tear from his son’s face, giving him a reassuring look.  
“I’m just going to buy us some time. Run ahead and wait by the creek. I’ll be there as soon as I take care of these monsters.” Glanni said, drawing up as much bravado as he could muster.  
Robbie could feel another prickle of sadness as he saw the graveness in his father’s expression.  
“Promise you’ll come for me.” He said quietly.  
Glanni only smiled sadly. He pushed his son away. “Run, Robbie. And don’t look back.”  
And so, Robbie ran. The last thing he saw was his father turning towards the elves, allowing his wings to flare out again.  
The last thing he heard was his dad shouting, “You’re gonna regret burning down my home, you pointy eared freaks! You’ll pay for taking my Daimhin from me!”

It felt like he ran for hours before Robbie finally reached the creek, stumbling over tree roots and fallen branches as he continued to flee. He dropped right at the creek’s edge, panting as he desperately tried to catch his breath. He coughed and choked, gagging at the remaining ash in his throat and mouth. He dropped a shaking hand into the cool and clear water of the creek, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of clean water. Its chilly temperature almost stung against his raspy and slightly burnt throat. An explosion nearly caused him to tumble into the water. He turned his attention up towards the sky, seeing the sky still stained orange and red from the fire, the fluffy clouds replaced with ashy smoke trails.  
Drawing his knees up to his chest, Robbie kept his attention turned towards the clearing he ran through, looking for any sign of his father. He’d promised, right? He was strong; he could easily defeat those elves with his hands tied behind his back. He’d come back and everything would be okay.

Those are the things Robbie told himself as he waited.

...

Days passed. Glanni never came.

…

He stayed near the pond for several days afterwards before he decided to part the forest for good. The smoke had finally begun to lift, and he no longer saw the hellish balloons leaving whatever remained of his home. He had considered living out in the forest, living on the wild plants and berries like some sort of wild boy. But he had noticed the woods growing…strange. More than once he found some of the trees reaching towards him, their limbs weakly clawing at his arms and his still sore back. The flowers oozed strange, sparkly goo, and he could hear a weeping throughout the woods. The old charms and traps the faeries had set up were weakening and growing twisted, and he noticed it in the new saplings. Unlike their parents, the young trees grew with purpled bark and spiraled up into the sky in a double helix fashion.  
They also brimmed with powerful, wild magic that sent shivers down Robbie’s spine.  
He nearly cried once more. He wasn’t even welcome in the forest built to protect people like him.  
So, picking himself up, he wandered towards where his father had once gestured. Mortal settlements existed outside the woods, that he knew. He wasn’t sure how he’d survive, but he’d at least try.  
He didn’t even look back once towards his home as he started his long and lonely trek.

//

With a flash of light, Sportacus was back within himself. He fell backwards, hitting his back hard against the ground. The first thing he did was grasp at the ground, clutching fistfuls of grass as he panted hard.  
Had he actually just witnessed all of that? Was it some horrible dream?  
Once he’d sat up and seen Robbie, still sitting on the ground, he knew that it had to have been real.  
…  
Was Robbie always that blurry?  
Sportacus realized, through watery eyes, that he was crying, and had been crying for some time. His skin felt dry and sore from the constant stream of tears.  
He smudged some tears off his face, looking with shaky disbelief as the tears continued to cascade down his cheeks in thick droplets.  
He was trembling, ever so slightly, as he tried to process all the sights and horrors he’d witnessed.  
It was far too much.  
If he let his thoughts still for even a moment, he’d see the gruesome sights and experience the horrifying senses all over again. The choking flames, the agonized screams. The pools of blood, the tearful looks of Robbie’s parents as they said their last goodbyes.  
The overwhelming sensation of horror that had encompassed the young Robbie.

He was broken from his fear-stricken state by the sound of grass rustling, and rocks tumbling through the fields.  
His attention shot back to Robbie, who’d slowly risen back to a standing position.  
All at once, Sportacus was filled with the need to say something. _Anything_. Anything at all, if only to comfort and soothe the ache he knew the man felt. If Robbie was reliving what Sportacus had seen, the witch could only imagine how _he_ felt, if he, an unrelated party, was struggling to grapple with the atrocities of that night.  
Sportacus’s mouth opened, but nothing was heard. He shook, trying desperately to come up with something that might help, or wouldn’t sound so empty and disingenuous.  
He could only muster the ability to say one thing.  
“R-Robbie…” Sportacus said shakily.  
The man tensed, then sighed, his back still to the witch. His shoulders loosened, and he quietly responded.  
“So, I’m guessing you saw all that, huh? Not sure how, but then again this forest has never made much sense since that day.” Robbie said with a hollow laugh.  
More tears fell down Sportacus’s face.  
“R-Robbie, I’m – “  
The remnants of Robbie’s wings flitted weakly against Robbie’s back. He shook his head.  
“I guess you see it now. I’m the last remaining faerie in my court, a court designated as dangerous by _your_ kingdom. I don’t know why, or how. We were peaceful. But we were destroyed anyways.” Robbie said softly. He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To finish what those elves started?”  
Sportacus looked mortified.  
“R-Robbie, I – “  
“I’ll make it easy for you, then.” Robbie interrupted, his tone growing more grave and low. He reached down into the sea of grass, sifting around until he found what he was looking for. Standing up, he turned to face Sportacus, holding a rusted sword in his hands.

Sportacus’s face went white, and his heart nearly stopped.  
Robbie held out the sword to him.  
“Get it over with, _elf_. I know that’s what you have to do.” Robbie said, looking eerily calm about this situation.  
Sportacus, finally getting himself together, pushed the sword away and stood to his feet.  
“Robbie, no! You know I’d never do that!” Sportacus said firmly.  
Robbie’s expression went from resigned, to confused, to anger.  
“Don’t try and play with me, elf. I know how much your kind hates people like me, like my family. Why don’t you just get it over with??” he said, his voice breaking.  
Sportacus’s own expression faltered, and he looked pleadingly at the faerie.  
“Robbie, please, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know that…that you went through all of that. I’m so sorry, your court and family, and you, didn’t deserve anything you all went through.” Sportacus said. “But please, Robbie, I won’t kill you. I would never even think of doing that. I…” he said, pausing. “…care about you.”  
Robbie gritted his teeth, glaring at the witch. His hand clenched around the sword’s hilt, and a dangerous glare flickered in his eyes. He raised the blade, pointing it menacingly at the witch, even as the sword shook and trembled.  
“Stop lying, _elf_.” He hissed with watery eyes.  
Sportacus’s eyes went wide, and he stared in disbelief.  
“Robbie, please…” he said quietly.  
The anger in Robbie’s eyes remained consistent, and he braced himself more. The blade still shook, even as Robbie raised the blade higher.  
Sportacus, in response, closed his eyes. He lowered his head as his mouth formed a thin line, barely keeping back another plea towards the faerie. He awaited the crash of the dull blade against his skull.

Except, that didn’t happen.  
Robbie made a choked, gasping sound, and the anger faded. The shivering grew and overtook his body, making the sword tremble like a reed in a windstorm. Shaking, Robbie lowered the blade, and finally let it slip from his hand. The rusted weapon clattered against the dirt as Robbie wrapped his arms around his chest, tears rolling down his face.  
Sportacus opened his eyes, and looked up at the man, his heart breaking as he saw the man stare at him with a look that spoke volumes more than words could ever muster.  
It was a collection of complex, muddled, yet violent feelings. A hint of anger remained, but was mixed thoroughly with a helping of other emotions. Grief, sadness, conflict and confusion, fear, perhaps even some disbelief (to whom, Sportacus wouldn’t guess). Robbie lifted a hand and covered his mouth as he looked at Sportacus, the gaze being apologetic yet also questioning. His gaze held an intensity that was usually reserved for those looking warily at a particularly unruly animal, perhaps one they weren’t quite sure if they were aggressive or not.  
Sportacus sucked in a breath, then stood to his feet with a wavering form of balance. He took a step forward, warily extending a hand out towards the man.  
Robbie, in response, took a swift step back, his eyes still wide and staring intensely.  
As much as Sportacus tried not to let it show, he figured Robbie noticed how his body shrunk at the fearful response, and how his face fell. Steeling his resolve, Sportacus finally spoke.  
“Robbie, I…I wanted to at least thank you. I know you were the one who healed my crystal. Without you, I was…was going to be a goner.”  
Robbie still stared at him.  
Sportacus sighed. “And…And I wanted to make it clear, that I was not sent to kill you. That was never a reason for me coming here. The Elven kingdom didn’t send me. They couldn’t have. I came here on my own volition, as part of my journey. I chose LazyTown because it seemed like a good place with good people, and it is. That means you too.”  
A pause fell. Robbie didn’t respond.  
Sportacus felt a vice around his heart as he continued. “I know you might not believe me. After seeing…all of _that_ , I don’t blame you. But if you will, please know that I care about you. That’s why I came looking for you, because I was worried about you. I just…just never thought that _this_ would be the reason you left. I really am sorry, Robbie. I know that sounds empty, but I am. I’m sorry.”  
Robbie was still quiet.  
A lump built in Sportacus’s throat as he then said, “I also wanted to say that I…I understand if what happened the other night, where we almost…you know. If this is a deal breaker, me being an elf, then that’s okay. I just hope, maybe, perhaps, we could still at least be friends.” Sportacus let a weakly hopeful smile cross his face as he held out a hand. “I still think you’re great, and one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And I hope, even with everything, we could still keep that.”

Robbie’s eyes flitted down from Sportacus’s face to his hand. Sportacus noticed how his left hand’s fingers clenched at his arm, and how a tension seemed to grip his shoulders. The man, for a moment, looked near convinced. His eyes softened, and his fingers flexed ever so slightly. But something must’ve crossed the man’s mind. His gaze had shot back to the sides of Sportacus’s head. His brow grew furrowed, and his dug his fingers into his arm. He turned away from Sportacus, turning his back to him once more.  
“I’m not ready.” Robbie finally said quietly.  
He then raised a hand and snapped his fingers. In an instant, Robbie’s form melted into shadow that stood out like an ink stain on paper against the green landscape. The blob wavered for only a moment, as if he was reconsidering his response, before the formless shadow darted off into the woods and out of Sportacus’s sight.

It took a moment for Sportacus to register what Robbie had said, even as he watched the shadow that was once the man dart over the hilltop. But as the wind whistled through the grasses, the air filling with the ambient noises of rustling leaves, distant birds, and the mournful ringing of the court’s bell, the reality sunk in with Sportacus.  
His heart sunk heavily in his chest, near tickling at his stomach. For some time, he just stared at the discarded sword in the grasses, its red rust strikingly contrasting the cool greens. The conversation played over again in his head repeatedly, but its impact seemed dulled. Almost distant.  
After some time, Sportacus turned and slowly sauntered out of the village, not giving another look to the ruined court. He passed through the forest, only hastening his pace as he passed the grove where the haunted trees once stood. All the while, he kept quiet, his mind a dulled haze where emotions made contact, but merely bounced off, trailing around the fog surrounding his thoughts. He knew he was feeling something, but which he was feeling first he didn’t know.  
He continued in this empty, unknown trance all throughout his return trip, and it persisted even as the LazyTown skyline appeared across the horizon.

\--

Circe hadn’t slept well while Sportacus was away.

Admittedly, she knew she wasn’t supposed to be sleeping much. It was her job, after all, to keep an eye on the town. And she did, though there wasn’t much to observe. The town seemed listless and fatigued after the disaster at the festival. Officer Obtuse was continuing his investigation, but cleanup had yet to start. The streets were fairly empty all day, with scant number of pedestrians visible. Circe, to be sure, had even done a short loop around the perimeter, just to make sure everyone was resting or holding out well.  
But as she assumed, no one was really out and about. Most she saw were laying inside, or slowly going about their usual chores, though in a manner that was far quieter and less lively than normal.  
While at times the energy and pep of the town wore on the feline, Circe had to admit that the sudden absence of that perky optimism left LazyTown feeling uneasily empty. She didn’t think she’d say it, but she wanted the overt happiness and cheer back. The town felt unwell without it.

She’d seen Stephanie earlier, though she wasn’t faring much better. It seemed like the young girl would try to go about her usual routine with some pep and cheer, but would immediately fizzle out as soon as she noticed a piece of shrapnel laying in the road, or if she looked up towards Sportacus’s bedroom.  
To compensate, whenever Stephanie was just lounging in the house (which was concerningly more often), Circe would make a point to curl up on her lap and exaggerate her purring. It seemed to help a little, as sometimes Stephanie would get a small smile as she’d gently pet the feline.  
She’d sometimes do the same for the Mayor, who seemed particularly stressed as of lately. Not that Circe could blame him; she figured he was at the apex of all the messes, being the one every assumed would fix everything, or at least come up with a solid plan. But this was Mayor Meanswell they were talking about. A sweet man, but even Circe knew he wasn’t the best in times of crises just by observing him.

That day had been gray. A solid blanket of clouds hung over LazyTown, casting it in a pale shadow. It made Circe feel more tired than usual. She curled up on the bed, deciding that her work for today was done. The streets were still empty, and she was exhausted. She laid her head against the comforter, and slowly closed her eyes.  
She was about to drift off until she heard the door downstairs close.  
Her ears perked up, and she quickly lifted her head as she heard the tell-tale sounds of creaking going up the stairs. Someone was home, and the rhythm of those steps could only belong to one person.  
She fought back her relived eagerness to see her witch as she stood to her feet, waiting anxiously for Sportacus to open the door.  
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see, but she at least knew that the state Sportacus was in wasn’t what she expected.  
The witch looked distant, his eyes half-lidded and staring out into space. The hair that stuck out from under his cap was tangled with leaves and a few splinters of wood. Those same splinters also dotted his outfit, a few even sticking in his skin. He was covered in scrapes, scratches, and dirt. And his movement, his gait, seemed to draw closer to a lumber than his usual stride. It looked heavy, and worn down.  
She looked at her witch’s eyes, and saw the dark circles underneath them, framing them like a raccoon’s. But more notably, his eyes spoke of something that Circe didn’t know yet, but whatever it was it was haunting Sportacus. She knew he’d seen something, or witnessed something, in those woods.  
Stumbling, Sportacus stepped close to the bed, stopping one foot in front of it.  
“Sportacus?” Circe finally said, looking with worry. “Are…Are you okay? Did you find Robbie?”  
Sportacus’s pupils drifted down to his familiar slowly, which only served to fuel Circe’s concerns.  
“Sportacus,” Circe said, taking a step closer to the edge. “what happened?”

Sportacus’s eyes flitted around the room, taking in the surroundings, before they settled on his broom. He stared at its state, half broken and in desperate need of repair. It reminded him of the night, the last night with Robbie and him. The sight brought back the events of the last few weeks into perspective, and it hit him all at once just how much had happened. The swirl of emotions collided in his mind, creating a mixed mess of feelings and thoughts, making nothing coherent.  
As a result, Sportacus said nothing. His eyes went back to his familiar, and clarity returned to them. He slowly sunk to his knees, and as he fell his hands shot out to grip the side of his bed.  
Circe jumped back, and was about to say something, before she paused. She watched as Sportacus leaned in, resting his head against the mattress, his hands finally falling to his sides and then wrapping around himself.  
She could hear his dry, tearless sobs, punctuated by his sniffling.  
She noticed how much his body was shaking, wracked by tremors uncontrollable and encompassing.  
“I…” Sportacus whimpered out.  
Circe immediately stepped towards him, and gently nudged at his cap with her forehead.  
“I…” he tried to say once more.  
“Shh…” hushed Circe. “It’s okay. If it’s too hard, don’t try to talk about it.”  
Sportacus shook his head weakly.  
“N – “  
“Sportacus.” Said Circe in a voice both quiet yet firm.  
Sportacus finally lifted his head, and Circe felt her heart go still as she finally looked into her witch’s tired, broken eyes. Some messy, sweat-dampened blonde hair fell into his face.  
“Sportacus, I…I imagine you didn’t sleep well in the forest, did you?” Circe asked, feeling at a loss for words.  
Sportacus’s eyes drifted down guiltily.  
“I figured not.” Circe said with a sigh, straightening herself. “You need rest. You look like you’ve been through hell and back, and that’s the only thing that’ll help you right now.”  
Sportacus, reluctantly, stood back to his feet and crawled into bed. As he shifted himself into a good sleeping position, Circe briefly noted a flash of purple mixed with blue that seemed to originate from his pocket. As the witch finally settled himself, he looked about ready to pass out at that moment, his eyelids sleepily fighting to stay awake.

Circe crawled onto his chest and bumped his chin with her forehead. She gave him a weak, sad smile as she curled up on his chest.  
“Come on, get some sleep. We can talk about what happened in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know this chapter got real when even I felt sad after re-reading it XD
> 
> I know I've pounded you guys over the head with feels, but I swear it's just at that point of the story. It's not going to be just downhill for the rest of the story, it's just like that for now. Next chapter will focus more on the other townsfolk after the incident at the festival, so hopefully there'll be a few lighter moments, maybe even some humor.
> 
> Please let me know if you want any additional tags or warnings added to the top. I apologize for any and all feels inflicted by this chapter.
> 
> Also yay! An update within less than a week of the last one!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. Aftermath

Circe awoke to the bright light of the sun in her eyes. She squinted, glaring at the beams of sunshine that seeped between the drawn drapes (or whatever they passed as. Honestly, their “drapes” were really only hung bedsheets) and poured across the comforter. Circe yawned widely, licking her chops as she stood and stretched. She felt the area underneath her shift. At first, she looked in confusion, until she remembered the events of last night.  
She turned around, and looked over the still sleeping witch. She then glanced at the clock on the wall.  
9:50 am.  
Circe couldn’t remember the last time Sportacus had slept so late.  
Yet there he was, still sleeping soundly. Which was a relief to Circe, as she had noted how restless of a night it was. It seemed every other hour Sportacus was making some uncomfortable sound, his hands gripping large handfuls of the blankets and his pillow. Nightmares, that’s what Circe figured. She also figured that, despite how long he slept, Sportacus would still be exhausted that day.  
“ _I’d be exhausted too. Two weeks of not sleeping well, then two additional days of whatever the heck happened in those woods? Geez, I’d be sleeping like the dead_.” She thought to herself, before cringing at the “like the dead” part. That was still a sore spot for her.  
Still, she looked at her witch, watching how he still held some tension in his face. Even with how soundly he slept, the signs of his restlessness were still present in how some of the blankets piled on the floor.  
Circe gave a slight nod.  
No way was she going to let Sportacus have another night of restless sleep if she could do something about it.

Hopping off the bed, she decided to let the witch sleep in. She jumped on top the small bedside table and looped a small coin purse around her neck. Her eyes then glowed a bright blue, and she vanished after a quick blink.  
Sportacus shifted around uncomfortably on the bed in response.

\--

“Kaya, I need your help. We have to talk to Pixel.”

Kaya looked up from her stacking with wide eyes.  
“About what?” she asked.  
Evie looked at her exasperatedly. “About the airplane project! We need to convince him to leave the project right now!”  
Kaya’s face paled. “What?? But why?”  
Evie stood tall. “Safety, Kaya. Simply put, it’s clear that these kinds of projects are far too big for him right now. Maybe when he’s older he can try working on airplanes again, but not right now.”  
“Evie, sweetie, we can’t just make him drop this project! You know this is important for him, and a dream to be given this responsibility!” Kaya protested, putting down her box of stationery.  
Evie frowned. “Well, maybe we were a little naïve letting him take this on! I know this is important to him, but there’s a reason adults work on airplanes and not, you know, _literal children_! We should’ve thought this through, Kaya!”  
“But we can’t just tell him no now! He’s been on this project for months, he’ll be so confused!”  
“But we _can_! We’re his parents, Kaya!”  
Kaya frowned and crossed her arms. “But we _can’t_. We always knew that there was a risk of something going wrong on the airplane. We talked to him about it before we gave him our a-ok, remember?”  
Evie recoiled and started to slowly walk towards a shelf.  
Kaya’s face softened. “Evie…”

“I know we did. I know we always knew there might be…complications, Kaya.” Evie noted softly. She looked back at her wife, tears in her eyes. “But, the festival? It made it all too real. When Milford said that the job would be difficult and he might get hurt, I thought, you know, just some boo-boos or a sprain here and there. NOT an explosion.”  
“Oh, babe…” Kaya said sympathetically, moving towards her wife for a hug.  
Evie returned the hug. “I know it’s stupid, but something about LazyTown makes me forget that things like that can still happen. It’s so quiet and…and idyllic here. Makes you feel like nothing bad or crazy can happen.”  
Kaya gently rubbed circles into her wife’s back. “I know how you feel. I often forget that bad accidents are a thing everywhere, even here.”  
Evie sniffled and burrowed her face into Kaya’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Kaya, I just panicked. I don’t want anything bad to happen to our baby.”  
Kaya gently smoothed her wife’s silky hair. “It’s okay, Evie. I-I understand. I’m worried about our Pixel too.”  
Evie took in a deep breath and sighed wearily. “Still wish we could protect him from the crap of the real world.” She said with a sad chuckle.  
Kaya laughed. “I think all parents feel like that.”  
“Life is stupid.” Evie stated.  
“Yes, it is, babe.” Kaya said with a smile.

Evie looked up, smiling faintly. “You know, you always seem to keep it together during times like these. What’s your secret?”  
“I just cry on the inside.” Kaya said with a shrug.  
“Wow, that isn’t depressing as heck.” Evie noted.  
“Hey, it works, right? Makes you think I’m all collected.” Kaya said with a smirk.  
Evie snuggled against her wife. “Well don’t do that! It’s not good for you! I heard it gives you wrinkles.”  
Kaya rolled her eyes. “Oh no! Not wrinkles!” she said with a laugh. “We all get them eventually.”  
“Well, it’d be a shame if a face like yours got them early.” Evie said, giving Kaya a kiss on the lips.  
“Mmm, well good to see you’re cheered up.” Kaya said, kissing her back.  
“I can’t stay stressed and sad too long with you, babe.” Evie said with a contented smile.

The two gave each over bucket loads of kisses for several minutes before finally parting, the two laughing in bliss.  
“Okay, enough fooling around. I need help with these boxes.” Kaya said, lifting her own.  
“Really? Can’t we just head out early? Not like anyone’s shopping lately anyways.” Evie noted.  
“No, because we should still be ready for when people feel like retail therapy again.” Kaya said, carrying the box towards the storage closet.  
“Spoilsport.” Evie said teasingly, before picking up her own box.

\--

As another person passed by, Ziggy and Stingy ducked behind the boxes again. They crouched and waited, nearly holding their breaths, until they were sure the passerby had vanished once more. They then stood back up again, returning their attention to the debris covered and partly burned park.  
“S-See? I told you it was bad!” Ziggy noted fearfully.  
Stingy had gone completely white, and he gave a slow nod. “You are right, this is really, REALLY bad.” He said, his tongue growing dry.  
Ziggy looked back and forth fearfully from his friend to the mess.  
“Then what do we do??”  
Stingy looked with a weak smile. “Depends. Do YOU have connections with people who make fake passports? If I stand on your shoulders, we could potentially pass for eighteen.”  
Ziggy gasped. “Stingy! We shouldn’t run!”  
“And why not? Do you have any better ideas?” Stingy asked nervously.

Ziggy shrunk back, and looked uneasily at his untied shoes.  
“I mean…we should probably fess up. Tell the truth?” Ziggy suggested.  
“Absolutely not.” Stingy said firmly.  
Ziggy’s eyes widened. “B-But, we have to! This whole mess is our fault, so we should tell someone!”  
“NO, we should NOT.” Stingy said again. “I know you are just a tiny kid,”  
“You’re only a year older than me.” Ziggy pointed out.  
“but, you don’t know what those adults will do if they find out that all that was our fault!” Stingy continued. Stingy gripped his friend’s t-shirt. “They will throw us in JAIL.”  
Ziggy looked at his friend fearfully. “No! B-But, they wouldn’t! It…It was just an accident!”  
“But they would!” Stingy said. “That is just how it works! I heard my dad say something about that one day. Happened to an old co-worker of his.”  
“Did he also blow up a park?” Ziggy asked.  
“No, he said something about ‘em-bee-zel-meant”, but his co-worker said he didn’t mean to do it. But he went to jail anyways!” Stingy said.  
Ziggy gasped in alarm.  
“So you see? If they find out, we will be locked away forever!” Stingy said more intensely.  
“For how long did you say?” Ziggy asked.  
“FOREVER!” Stingy responded quickly.  
Ziggy recoiled. “That’s a long time…”

Stingy nodded. “Now do you get why we cannot say anything?”  
Ziggy looked and nodded nervously. “I do, but…but it still feels wrong to lie like that.”  
“Sometimes, when we get older, doing the right thing only makes things worse. My dad used to say things like that too.” Stingy said soberly.  
“Your dad is kind of weird though. My mom said not talk to him, or make business deals with him.” Ziggy noted.  
Stingy hmphed. “Well, he’s still MY dad, and where I get MY advice, so I still think it’s the best advice we can get. It’ll keep us out of a cell, so that’s what matters.”  
“So, should we tell Trixie to not say anything too?” Ziggy asked.  
“Yes, great idea. Let us go find her and tell her about what we have deci – “Stingy said, bumping into something. Stingy turned on his heel, and immediately went white.  
Ziggy made a fearful noise.  
Stingy, against all of his instincts, gave a shakily wide smile.  
“Why, good day Officer Obtuse!” he said.

Officer Obtuse gave a small smile and wave, before the smile vanished.  
“So, you boys having a good conversation back here?” he asked calmly.  
“Oh yes, Officer. Having a perfectly good, normal…” Stingy started.  
“We’re so sorry, Officer Obtuse! We didn’t mean to hurt anyone! We’re really, really sorry! Please don’t throw us in jail forever!” Ziggy blurted and begged.  
Stingy froze.  
Officer Obtuse gave a sage nod. He led the boys back towards the street.  
“Come on boys, looks like we’ll have to have a long talk.” He said.  
Ziggy gave one guilty look to Stingy, who glared at the young boy, as they were led away from the alley and towards Obtuse’s office at town hall.

\--

Neil wiped a collection of sweat and flour off his brow as he continued to knead the dough. He sighed, grabbing another fistful of flour to throw onto his board. He slapped the tough dough back onto the board and began to pound it with a rolling pin, continuously kneading and rolling it out to get it as thin as he liked. He cleaned a hand on his apron, taking only a moment to acknowledge the oppressive heat of his bakery’s kitchen. He glanced up and over to the station next to him, eying the untouched dough that sat in a metal bowl.  
He frowned, and threw down his rolling pin. His fingers tapped against his hip as he looked around, his brows furrowing into a v-shape on his forehead. He stomped around, looking in pantries and cupboards for a certain assistant.  
“Jives! You’ve got dough sitting out here! Get your butt in here and keep kneading!” Neil shouted, his eyes darting around.  
Nothing.  
He groaned and kept searching through the room, pushing past multiple trays filled with finished baked goods and sandwiches. His head swiveled side to side, seeing no sign of the lanky teen. He pushed open the swinging door, only to find the front counter unattended. He gritted his teeth, when a cool breeze tickled the back of his neck.  
He sharply turned, and finally noticed the back door left ajar.  
“Oh that lazy…” Neil muttered to himself as he charged towards the back door.  
Leaning out, he searched around the side alley, but Jives was still nowhere to be seen.  
“JIVES! I SWEAR, IF YOU WENT OUT TO SMOKE ON THE JOB AGAIN, I WILL – “

“Neil…” said a soft voice behind him.  
Neil stopped as a pair of soft, warm hands trailed up to his shoulders, gently rubbing them.  
He exhaled a sharp breath.  
“Not now, Lila. I need to find our no-good son and get his butt back in here.” Neil grunted.  
The woman named Lila, a woman with soft curves, springy auburn hair, and a cheery complexion, gave her husband a look as she ran a hand up and down his bicep.  
“Really? For what, exactly?” she asked.  
Neil turned and looked at her. “To finish the biscuits, what else? He left his dough out on the counter.”  
Lila raised an eyebrow. “We need more biscuits?”  
“Sure we do. You know every Sunday we get dozens of people coming in to order biscuits and apple butter.”  
“I know that, honey, but I think 200 biscuits is a little excessive, don’t you?” She said.  
“Well you know how – “Neil started, before stopping. Clarity returned to his face. “did you just say 200 biscuits?”  
“Plus a few dozen cakes, at least a baker’s dozen of cupcakes, and don’t get me started on the sandwich bread.” Lila noted, keeping a running tab on her fingers of each type of baked good.  
Neil instantly looked sheepish. A blush crossed his face, even as he fought to keep his dignity.  
“Well, um, never know? The king and his family could come through town and want enough to feed his entourage.” Neil suggested weakly.  
“I highly doubt that, honey.” Lila said, brushing some excess flour off his t-shirt. “I think, just possibly, you’ve been stress baking again.”  
Neil braced his mouth shut, and let out a sharp exhale through his nose. He crossed his arms, not wanting to admit that his wife is right.  
“This whole investigation has got you rattled, huh?” said Lila, as she walked around her husband and began to gently knead his shoulders.  
Neil sighed.  
“Thought so.” hummed Lila.  
“Don’t know why. Everyone is fine, no one got that badly hurt. You’re fine, Jives is fine. Nothing to be upset about, but I still feel nervous.” Admitted Neil.  
“It’s understandable. It was crazy. I think everyone’s still recuperating.” Said Lila, as she shifted her attention to Neil’s shoulder blades.  
Neil breathed out as Lila found a sore spot. He cringed, trying to relax despite the pain.

“You know, if you just talked rather than baked when you’re stressed, you’d probably be less tense.” Chuckled Lila.  
“Hmph, a real man doesn’t get all wrapped up in emotions like that.” Neil retorted.  
Lila frowned, and lightly slapped her husband with a rag.  
“Now that’s poppycock and you know it.” She said disapprovingly. “You want your son learning that from you?”  
Neil sighed and shook his head.  
She looked at him softly. “You need to let him take his time. I bet he’s just as shaken as you are, so give him some space.”  
“Even if he’s partaking in that awful habit of his?”  
“Even if.” Affirmed Lila. “He’ll kick it someday.”  
Neil rubbed his temples and lightly nodded. “Alright, I’ll leave him be. I don’t like it, and I hate him slacking off so much. But if you’re right, and this is just him dealing with all this crap, then fine.”  
Lila leaned up and pecked her husband’s cheek.  
“Thank you, honey.”  
Neil leaned over and kissed his wife’s head. He glanced at the stacks of finished goods and laughed.  
“Well, if I really did bake that much, maybe we can both take a break.” Neil suggested.  
Lila smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Anything you want to do? Excluding baking, of course.”  
Neil grinned and wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist.  
“I don’t know, do you have something in mind?” he asked, looking at her cheekily.  
Lila thought for a minute, before she smiled warmly.  
“Well, I could use some help getting something out of the attic.” She said.  
“Oh? What?” asked Neil.  
Lila looked at her husband with a warm glow, a bliss visible in her eyes.  
“Nothing much. Just the high chair and the crib.” She said with a chuckle.

Neil paused, taking a moment to process everything.  
As soon as it hit him, his eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open.  
“Wait…oh wait…you don’t mean?” he asked, a silly grin crossing his face.  
Lila chuckled, and started up the stairs.  
Neil rushed up behind her and swept her off her feet.  
“Oh no, you’re not walking up! Better get ready to be pampered for the next few months!” Neil said gleefully, peppering her cheeks with kisses.  
Lila laughed. “I’m glad you’re looking less stressed, Neil.”  
“Stressed? How could I be stressed??” Neil said with a hearty laugh. He gave his wife a quick squeeze as he carried her up the stairs, leaving the unfinished dough on the counter.

\--

Trixie didn’t know what to expect when she walked towards the park.  
She hadn’t even known what had happened until she walked past Ziggy’s mother and grandmother, who were on a short morning walk.  
“The town is a complete mess. Who’s going to clean up all this debris?” his mother had questioned.  
“I’m sure that once Obtuse gets to the bottom of this, the clean-up will start. Either it’ll be a town effort or perhaps the hooligans will be put on the job.” Said his grandmother quietly.  
Ziggy’s mother nodded, then looked across at the forest.  
“Do you think Sportacus is doing fine in the woods? I mean, after everything that happened…”  
“He’ll be fine too, dear. He’s a strong one. I’m sure it’ll take more than a haunted forest to take him down.” His grandmother chuckled.  
“You think so?” His mother asked.  
His grandmother patted her back.  
“I know so. Now come along, let’s go get ready for brunch.”

The talk of clean-up, of something concerning Sportacus, sent Trixie running towards the town center. As she passed by multiple pieces of debris, Trixie begged that her worst fears weren’t the truth. Maybe this was all an elaborate prank to finally get her for her troublemaking ways. Or perhaps this was all a dream. She slapped her cheeks a few times, but after each slap the metal pieces still scarred the ground, and the glass windows of some of the shops were still cracked.  
She had a good idea of what could’ve caused such a mess, but she hoped beyond all hopes she would be incorrect, even with all the mounting evidence to the contrary.  
Her heart froze as she finally reached the park.  
She ducked behind a wall as she took in everything she’d just seen. The burn marks in the grass, the embedded pieces of metal and wood that stuck out like tree stumps in the ground. The flashing, broken streetlamps that housed pools of broken glass under their gazes. Taking one step back, she heard the tell-tale sound of glass cracking under her shoe. Lifting her foot, she caught a glimpse of the remnants of a blue piece of glass. Like the one on Pixel’s engine.  
A pit grew in her stomach.  
“Oh geez…” She said to herself quietly.  
She then heard the pop of a camera flash.  
Peeking around the corner, her face paled as she watched Officer Obtuse go about his work, taking photos of the ruined festival grounds. His mouth was stuck in a frown as he jotted down notes on a small, yellowed notebook. He tapped a pencil against his face as he circled the darkest part of the scorch marks again.  
Trixie sank against the wall, sliding down onto her bottom.  
“Oh double geez…” she groaned, covering her eyes with her arm.  
This was so much worse than she could’ve ever imagined.

As Trixie sat there, processing and coming to terms with the sinking reality, she could feel a distinct feeling. Like the world itself was falling apart around her, and somehow a mixture of sweat and tears surfaced on her face. She almost laughed at the horror of the situation, and how little she could do to mitigate damage or lessen the impact. The results had already partly played out; the evidence of the damage was scattered around the ground, with some laying at her feet.  
The monologue started in her mind, playing on full blast.  
“ _If you had only kept your feelings in check, this would’ve never happened. Maybe at one point people would pity you for your heartache, but not too many people blow up an airplane engine from unrequited feelings. Who would sympathize now? Not like you deserve it or anything, but things are gonna get sticky for quite some time. Hope you like the hole you dug for yourself._ ” The little voice droned on in her head.  
Trixie groaned, and let out a little whimper of guilt.  
This was all her fault, and even though no one had found that out yet (she thinks, anyways), she could already feel the stabbing sensation of guilt and regret, and the urgent need to fix things even though she can’t even fathom where to start. At that moment, she also wanted nothing more than to implode at that minute. Might as well, right? There’s a mess to clean up anyways; how much worse would it be to add herself to that pile?  
But of course, spontaneous human implosions are exceedingly rare, so Trixie knew she’d have to do something.  
And that something, of course, would be to fess up.  
…  
Except that was incredibly terrifying. How do you even do that?  
“ _Hey there Officer Obtuse! Just thought I’d let you know that I stuck some goop in Pixel’s engine that created this explosion. Sorry about that! Wasn’t thinking things out at all! Are we cool?_ ” She thought mockingly, before shaking her head.  
She knew she had to say something, but the how was escaping her. She assumed there really wasn’t a good way to admit fault, especially not with something this big. She’d just have to do it.  
She sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled uneasily. Her legs shook as she stood to her feet, and braced herself for the inevitably uncomfortable and painful experience that was due to come. She took one step towards the opening in the wall –

“Officer Obtuse!”  
That voice.  
Trixie froze, and ducked back behind the wall. She peeked out, begging for her hearing to be off and that that voice didn’t belong to who she thought it belonged to.  
The first sight of pink sunk all hopes.  
She was helpless as she watched Stephanie run up to the officer’s side, a concerned look on her face. From where she was, Trixie couldn’t hear the specifics of their conversation, but the shifting expression on Stephanie’s face told her everything she (didn’t) want to know.  
Her face went from neutral concern to horror as Officer Obtuse spoke, and she shook her head slowly. Briefly, her head turned towards the source of the explosion before returning to Obtuse.

At that point, any plans Trixie had originally had flew out the window. This situation was already bad, but now it was a million times worse.  
She couldn’t admit anything now, not when she was right there.  
If Trixie admitted to her wrongdoings with Stephanie _right there_ , not only would she have lost any chance of having something like a relationship with her, but she’d lose any chance of her even liking her. She’d view her as a crook, and a dangerous person. She’d want nothing to do with her.  
Selfish, perhaps, and potentially a little short-sighted given the litany of other consequences she would be awaiting, but it was something that Trixie felt at that moment was most important. It was what drove her feet away from the park and sent her running back towards the outskirts of town.  
She partly rationalized her latest bad decision out of many to the need to clearly sort through her confession so she could word it in the best way possible, as well as mitigate any social damage caused by her poor choices by finding Obtuse when he was alone and not in the middle of the busy town center.  
She tried not to think about how part of her decision was driven by her fear of being scolded and reprimanded in front of Stephanie. Not in front of her. She didn’t want to think that her flight was partly, if not primarily, fueled by some sinking realization of just how much her careless and irrational decision was going to cost her.  
No, definitely not a decision based in something as baseless as fear of social besmirching and losing the respect of someone she wanted it from most. Just needing to straighten out her confession.

She didn’t look back as she high-tailed it back towards the farm house.

\--

“Is something wrong, Pixel? You haven’t touched your sandwich. Don’t you like peanut butter and banana?” asked Stephanie.  
Pixel blinked, clearing away the mental haze he’d been stuck in. After glancing at his lunch, he laughed quietly and gestured to his friend’s lunch.  
“I could say the same to you. You’re just picking at your BLT.”  
Stephanie looked down at her uneaten sandwich and smirked.  
“ _Touché._ ” She said with a chuckle. Her smile fell. “But really, are you okay? You seem out of it.”  
Pixel shrugged and sighed.  
“I don’t know, I guess I just have a lot on my mind right now.” He said, looking back at Stephanie. “What about you?”  
“Same, I guess.” Stephanie confessed, sighing as she put her sandwich back down, tracing small circles in the bread.  
“About what?”  
Stephanie looked up and gave a small smile.  
“Hey, you first. I asked first, so you gotta share first.”  
Pixel shook his head with a smile.  
“Guess it’s only fair, huh? Alright, I’ll start.” He said. His smile vanished as his gaze grew distant. A distinctly sad feeling fell over the small picnic.  
Stephanie sat forward. “Pixel?”  
“I’m okay.” Pixel said quickly. He rubbed the back of his head nervously. “It’s just…you know how my solar-engine exploded at the festival, and how it seemed kind of out of nowhere?”  
“Right, it’s what Obtuse and my uncle are investigating. I’ve heard something about how they’re getting a list of suspects made – “  
“Well,” Pixel said lowly. He slowly pulled an object out of his pocket. He held it out to Stephanie, revealing a very misshapen and mangled screw, its surface partially blackened. “I know what made it explode.”  
Stephanie’s expression transitioned to confusion. She glanced over the bent screw, before glancing back up at Pixel.  
“How…how would _this_ make that whole engine explode?” She asked.

Pixel looked uneasily at his friend. “This screw is from the innermost core of the engine, right near the primary gears. I know it’s from there because I had considered fastening it tighter, but decided against it. I thought it might be fine! But,” He gave a weak smile. “I can see it wasn’t.”  
Stephanie’s face fell.  
“Oh, well…” She began quietly.  
Pixel chuckled as tears built in his eyes. “You see what this means, right? That explosion? It was all my fault, because I wasn’t careful enough. It’s my fault that Sportacus was nearly killed and the park is destroyed.” His hands clenched around the screw, leaving indentations in his skin. “And I…I feel so awful, Stephanie. I didn’t mean it, I swear…”  
“Pixel,” Stephanie said, quickly pulling her friend into a hug. “I know everyone doesn’t blame you.”  
“But _I_ feel like it’s all my fault, Stephanie! I-I could’ve…”  
“No, don’t start with that.” Stephanie said firmly. She pulled back and looked at her friend. “First of all, even if that screw played a part in the explosion, you didn’t mean for that to happen. You thought that the screw was fastened enough, and perhaps it wasn’t, but you didn’t do it on purpose, right?”  
“Of course not.” Pixel said in horror.  
Stephanie smiled reassuringly. “Then, everyone would understand. You’re what, ten? You made an engine for an airplane, and it otherwise worked perfectly! I remember my uncle saying that most adults can’t make an engine that effective on their first try. It was a small mistake that anyone could make.”  
Pixel’s eyes widened. “You think?”  
Stephanie nodded.  
Pixel looked relieved, a few tears rolling down his cheeks.  
“Thanks, Stephanie. That…That does make me feel better.” He said.

“No problem.” She said. Her smile faded as her eyes drifted to the side. “Besides, I just talked to Obtuse. He has an idea of who and what caused the explosion.”  
Pixel raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Who does he think did it?”  
Stephanie gave him a sad look.  
“He thinks…well, he thinks that Trixie did it. With some oil-based silly play goop.”  
“What? Really??” Pixel said, astonished.  
Stephanie gave a forlorn nod.  
Pixel looked down. “Wow, I never would’ve guessed to be honest. Trixie and her gang always pull pranks, but nothing to THIS level.”  
Stephanie didn’t respond.  
Pixel looked back at his friend. “Are…How do you feel about that?”  
“I don’t know, Pixel.” She responded quietly. “I just…kind of don’t want to believe it either. It’s too crazy.”

Pixel’s eyes went to the lunch, still untouched, before they returned to his friend, whose eyes had started to water. Pixel, giving a small nod, stood to his feet and offered a hand to Stephanie.  
Stephanie looked confused at her friend.  
“What’re you doing?”  
“Come on, I think a walk would help us both. Sounds like we have a lot more to work through before either of us can think about food.” Pixel said with a warm smile.  
Stephanie chuckled, and took his hand.  
“Where are we walking?” she asked.  
Pixel shrugged. “Just around town. Not too far of course, in case our lunch gets snagged by the birds.”  
“Good idea.” Stephanie laughed. “And…thanks, Pixel.”  
“What’re friends for?” Pixel said with a smile.

Leaving their lunches behind, the two walked casually towards the street over, while the two discussed their feelings about the festival incident.

\--

“Here’s the next stack of forms, Milford. These ones detail various options for fixing the landscape of the town park.” Said Ms. Busybody, as she let a tall tower of papers thump down onto the desk.

Mayor Meanswell, peering up from a near fortress of papers and files, gave her a weary look.  
“Thank you, Ms. Busybody.” He said, forcing a smile.  
“Milford, we’re dating, remember? I know this is an office environment, but you can call me ‘Bessie’ if you’d like.” Ms. Busybody said, giving him a wink.  
Mayor Meanswell gave her a distracted nod.  
“Um yes, sounds good Ms. Busybody.” He said, sifting through the new documents.  
Ms. Busybody’s smile wavered as she turned to fetch more stacks of papers.  
Mayor Meanswell sighed as he looked at the figures for the restoration project. Half the year’s budget would be blown on the landscaping alone, not factoring in the potential lawsuits filed by the various businesses against the city, and the need to bring in a larger law enforcement staff to better handle public events. It was all very expensive, but all of it had to be handled in as timely a manner as possible. He knew that the townsfolk would demand action on his part, but what to focus on first was near escaping him.  
Not to mention that he’d probably have to write a public address to mitigate any concerns and fears in the aftermath of the explosion. No matter how he wrote about the subject, he knew some of the citizens wouldn’t be swayed. He sweated as he thought about the potential calls for his resignation if he didn’t handle this situation well enough.   
Then there was the investigation he’d have to arbitrate, seeing that he’s the town’s mayor and all. Whenever, and if ever, Obtuse deduced the perpetrator of the explosion, Mayor Meanswell would have to play a part in determining their sentence. He hated dealing with criminal topics, and this was no exception. It was always messy, and he always felt a little guilt when dealing out harsher penalties.  
All this, and still the plans for the airplane project and the set date for take-off.  
Mayor Meanswell leaned forward and held his head in his hands, rubbing his temple.

This was far too much for him to handle right now. He needed a break.

“Now these forms are for the filing of an unforeseen expense so that the town’s financials will properly display the reasoning for the expense – “  
“Ms. Busybody, I’m sorry but I need to head out. Until I return, please field any calls and visits.” Mayor Meanswell said in his, usually unused, authoritative voice, as he stood to his feet.  
Ms. Busybody’s eyes grew wide as the mayor strode out of the room, closing the door quickly behind him. Unsure of what to do, she shrugged and took the mayor’s spot at his desk. She put down the papers and gently ran a finger across the desk.  
“Mayor Busybody: I could get behind that.” She said with a small smile, forgetting herself as she leaned back in the chair.

As soon as Mayor Meanswell was out in the fresh air, he took a deep breath, allowing the clean and warm air fill his lungs, calming his nerves. They were still there, of course, but there was a decent improvement. Straightening out his suit coat, he walked down the steps and out into the street, taking part in a routine that he usually followed every lunch hour. That long-standing routine nearly led him towards the town’s park, until he remembered what it looked like at the moment. Nope, going to the park wouldn’t provide its usual respite from Mayor Meanswell’s usual stress and responsibilities. He’d have to find an alternate route today.  
Sighing, he turned towards the rows of shops that lined an adjacent street. Perhaps some window shopping would provide some relaxation?  
It was a decent idea, at first. He admired a display in one shop of brand new kitchen supplies, playing with the idea of possibly taking up cooking classes in the future. It’d be a good idea, given that he figured Stephanie wouldn’t want to live on subpar meals and microwaved dishes the rest of her life. Of course, he’d only have time once he finished with the mess that was the park situation and after the hubbub of the town’s fears have settled once more. Not to mention the still in progress project of his biplane…  
He shook his head. Cooking classes would have to be postponed until further notice.  
Walking past more windows, he glanced over at the displays. Little kittens and puppies played in a pet shop display, right behind a sign proclaiming a two for one sale on cats and dogs. Bejeweled shoes and fancy leather spats sat in another. One window was darkened, its glass marred by cracks and chips.  
Mayor Meanswell picked up the pace and sighed exasperatedly, passing by more damaged and broken windows. This wasn’t helping. Everything in the town was reminding him of his looming responsibilities.  
He backed around a corner, ducking away into an alleyway. He closed his eyes and groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. This was far too much, and his break hadn’t helped anything. If he could pick a word to describe how he felt, he’d probably pick: overwhelmed. But he also knew he needed to calm down.  
Breathe in.  
Think of fishing holes and lakes.  
Breathe out.  
Cool mountain waters and dragonflies flitting about on the lake.  
Breathe in.  
…?  
Something sour punctuated the breeze now.  
Mayor Meanswell scrunched his nose. It wasn’t a pleasant smell. It was distinct, and nearly indescribable. All the mayor knew was it smelled nasty, and made him want to cough. He took another breath, and the smell invaded his nose again. Furrowing his brow, he turned towards where the breeze was flowing from. The smell, most likely, came from further down the alleyway. Bracing his hands against his lapels, Mayor Meanswell carefully went forward, following the ever-strengthening smell down the alley and away from the street. He let only one cough escape him as he travelled, and part of him hoped it was just some neglected garbage that he could simply inform the building owner about and get it disposed.  
A different possibility presented itself, however, once he noted the hazy smoke that lingered in the air, make the area fuzzy and foggy. The mayor quirked an eyebrow; something about this smoke and the smell was suddenly growing familiar. He heard an unfamiliar cough, and he slowed his pace. Cautiously, he peeked around the corner. Really, he should’ve anticipated what he ended up seeing, but still he was surprised.

There sat Jives, a nicely fashioned, green glass bong sitting in his lap. He had spotted the teen right in the middle of a long drag, the water bubbling and churning loudly in the device. Unaware of the mayor’s presence, Jives let out a steady stream of pungent, thick smoke into the air as he leaned against the wall. He seemed completely content, and his eyes were already a bright red color that, if someone were unfamiliar with the effects of marijuana, they’d assume he had some sort of burst blood vessel.

“Jives?” Mayor Meanswell finally hazarded to ask.  
Immediately, Jives jumped a foot in the air and hastily shoved the still hot bong as far away from the mayor’s sight as he could. He forced a shaky and unconvincing grin as he addressed the mayor.  
“Mayor Meanswell! How are you? Um, w-what are you doing in an alley? I mean, I’m just here hanging out please don’t tell my parents.” He said, stumbling into a half-baked plea.  
Mayor Meanswell shook his head and waved away Jives’ fears.  
“No need to panic, Jives. I wouldn’t report you to your parents or Officer Obtuse.” Mayor Meanswell said calmly.  
Jives’ eyes widened. He looked at the mayor with suspicion.  
“Wait, what? Really? Why not? I mean, this thing I’m doing, I’m not supposed to be doing. I think? I seriously didn’t know if so.” Jives said.  
The mayor sighed and leaned against the wall.  
“Jives, given everything that’s going on right now, I think a minor drug charge can be dropped. It really doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. I know you’re a good kid.” Mayor Meanswell said tiredly.  
Jives’ body untensed. He gave a glance back to his hidden bong.  
“You real? Like, you serious?” He asked.  
“Yes, I’m serious.”  
A silly grin broke onto the teen’s face.  
“Hey yeah, thanks mayor man! You’re pretty cool.” Jives said enthusiastically. He pulled out his bong again and, lighting the weed once more, prepared to take another drag before he stopped. He unclicked his lighter and stuffed it back in his pocket.  
“Um, couldn’t help but notice you look a little bummed out. Care to share?” asked Jives.  
Mayor Meanswell sighed, leaning his head against the wall. He contemplated the worth or wisdom of spilling his troubles onto a half-baked teen, but he also figured he had little to lose.  
“It’s everything concerning the festival disaster. There’s just so much to do and, well, I think I’m overwhelmed.” The Mayor admitted.  
“Heck yeah, I could see that. They want you to fix everything, right?”   
The Mayor looked at Jives.  
“Oh, exactly! A-And, I have no clue where to start or how to do it. I’m worried about getting things wrong or fixing things in the wrong order because that’ll upset everyone who’ll think I’m delaying on certain projects when really, I’m one person! I can’t fix everything at once, but I know that’s what some of the townsfolk will want! And then there’s the big flight happening in less than a month and…and…”  
“Woah woah, chill dude.” Jives said, placing a hand on the panicking mayor. “That’s all very heavy, and you seriously need to relax.”  
“J-Jives, that’s the whole reason I’m out here! But everything is reminding me of my work and it’s not working!” The mayor said worriedly.  
Jives bit his lip in thought. He looked back down at the ground, glancing at his bong. A small smile crossed his face as he said, “Well, there’s one thing I know always helps _me_ when I’m stressed out.”  
The mayor’s eyes followed where the teen’s were and widened once he realized what Jives was suggesting.  
“Oh my! You want me to get HIGH? With YOU?” he squawked.  
Jives hastily hushed the mayor and put a finger to his mouth.  
“Not so loud, man! You want everyone in town to know what I’m up to?” He said quietly. Pulling away, he shrugged. “Just thought I’d suggest this. You can say no, I won’t call you a nark.”

Mayor Meanswell paused, and pursed his lips in thought. He had to admit, the idea was tempting. While he’d never indulged himself in “the marijuana” before, he’d heard the stoners at his high school praise its potency when it came to dulling the senses and leaving one in a state of euphoric bliss. To even consider partaking in the substance, however, was a far detour from his usual character and public persona. Mayor Meanswell was always a straight-laced man. Would he really taint all of that just for a moment of peace?  
Then he remembered all of the work still waiting for him in his office.  
Sighing, he slumped to the floor and held out a hand.  
“What do I have to lose? Let me have some.” He said exhaustedly.  
Jives grinned, and immediately went to work changing out the old, burnt weed with a fresh amount from a small baggie.  
“Can’t believe I’m getting high with the mayor!” He said cheerily.  
“Not a word about this leaves this alley, alright? I’m trusting you to keep this secret.” The mayor warned as he watched Jives set up the bong.  
“Oh yeah, no worries Mayor Meanswell. My lips are zipped, you can trust me wholly. I’m not a squealer, wouldn’t be one even if someone bribed me with all the cheesy chips in the world.” Jives went on, checking his lighter with a few clicks of the lever.  
The mayor watched with some apprehension.  
“So, how does this work? Do I drink that stuff?” He asked, pointing to the bubbling water.  
Jives let a laugh escape him.  
“What? Nah, you don’t drink that crap. Wait, have you never toked before?”  
The mayor gave Jives a look. “Please, Jives, do I look like the type to do marijuana?”  
Jives raised his hands. “Hey, I never like to assume dude.” He held up the bong. “Since you’re new, I’ll light the weed. Just blow into the pipe to bubble the water, then breathe in the smoke as it collects here.” He said, pointing to the long pipe part. “Just do it slowly, okay? It’s gonna be superhot, so you have to balance between breathing it in and not burning your mouth. Breathe it out slowly once you’re ready.”  
The mayor nodded. “Seems simple enough.”  
Jives tilted the bong towards Mayor Meanswell while he lit the weed. The mayor tentatively stuck his mouth over the bong’s opening and blew in, creating an energetic bubbling reaction. The smoke pooled within the glass device and, at Jives encouragement, he sucked in the collected vapor.  
Instantly, the mayor broke into a coughing fit, hacking and choking on the horrible, superheated smoke that now perforated his throat. The taste was awful and bitter, and the burning was painful.  
Jives was quick to his side, handing him a bottle of water.  
“See, that’s why you have to be careful, man! But it’s alright, everyone coughs when they first try it.”  
The mayor, still trying to still his endless coughing, could only give a nod.  
After a minute or two, the mayor had managed to slow his coughing and, with only slight hesitation, gestured for the bong again.  
“This time, take a smaller hit. It’ll be easier to manage that way.” Jives suggested.  
The mayor followed this new suggestion, only letting the solution bubble enough to create a small cloud of smoke. He sucked it in, allowing the vapor to cool in his mouth. It was still not completely pleasant, but Mayor Meanswell could feel the effect much more this time around. He blew out a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl and swirl up into the sky. He sighed, feeling his mind grow steadily hazier.  
“There you go, you got it.” Jives said encouragingly, before taking his own hit.

The mayor sat back, feeling the cool sensation of the bricks against his head.  
“Thank you, Jives.” He finally said in a near mumble.  
Jives blew out a thin stream of smoke before giving the mayor a silly grin.  
“Hey, no problem my man! Everyone needs to relax sometimes. Just need some help occasionally.” He said, starting to fish through his pockets for a half-eaten cookie.  
The mayor sighed and closed his eyes, starting to feel the effects truly kick in.  
“So, don’t know if it’d bum you out or anything, but do you want to talk about what you’re bugged by?” Jives asked.  
The mayor shrugged lackadaisically.  
“Nothing big. Just dealing with a situation I thought I’d avoid by _living_ in LazyTown.” He said passively.  
“And that is…?”  
The mayor ran a hand down his face.  
“Big crime.” He answered. “You probably don’t know this, but I used to be part of Mayhem Town’s city council.”  
Jives’ eyes widened. “No kidding? Mayhem Town? That must’ve been a big gig.”  
“It was. A lot of prestige came with the job. Government car, discounts at the local businesses, that sort of thing. But, of course, with a bigger position came bigger issues and trouble to deal with.”  
“Like?”  
Mayor Meanswell sat back in thought. “Murder, arson, robberies, a few bomb scares. Those sorts of things.”  
“Damn.” Jives noted in a hushed voice.  
The mayor nodded. “I came into that job wanting to help people, and I did my best during those complicated issues. In the end, however, I realized it was…well it was draining me. I remember not feeling well during those times, and I was becoming short-fused and stressed. That’s not what I wanted to be! But I also didn’t want to step down from my position, because I still really wanted to help people. Just that _that_ sort of situations was more difficult for me to handle than I thought.”  
“So, what made you finally leave?”  
“When a position here opened up.” Mayor Meanswell said, gesturing to the town. “That and realizing that, in the end, staying was actually doing more harm by keeping the position from someone who could handle the job far better than myself. I still felt guilty leaving the position for such reasons, but I figured I made the right choice in the end. No use dying at forty from a job that someone would be far better at and more capable of handling than me.”  
Jives grinned. “Not a bad way to think about it.”  
“Perhaps,” The mayor said. “but here I am again. I really hoped to never have to handle a situation like this one again.” He sighed. “I’m just…not sure how to even start.”  
Jives looked down thoughtfully at his bong.  
“That…is pretty heavy, dude.” He said finally.  
Mayor Meanswell laughed, a little out of turn, at Jives’ terse comment.  
“It is definitely ‘heavy’, Jives.” He agreed.  
“Well…I’m sure the town understands that, you know, this is pretty big. However you handle it, I’m sure they’ll be happy about it. This town is pretty chill.” Jives said with a chuckle.  
Mayor Meanswell smiled lazily and nodded.  
“I think…you’re right. Thanks, Jives. Sorry for dumping that all on you.” Mayor Meanswell said.  
“Hey, no problem dude. Glad I could help.” Jives said.

A growl broke through the air.

Mayor Meanswell immediately clutched his stomach.  
“Oh my. Um, Jives? You wouldn’t happen to have any food, would you? I’m suddenly very hungry.”  
Jives grinned. “The munchies! You got ‘em bad! But that’s okay, cause I brought my stash!” he said, tossing the mayor a package of barbeque chips.  
The mayor opened the bag with a sharp _pop_ and immediately munched on a handful.  
“Now remember, not a word about this, okay?” said the mayor, his mouth full of chips.  
Jives made an x shape on his chest.  
“Cross my heart, hope to die.” Jives laughed, before pulling out his own packet of sour cream chips.  
“Let’s hope not.” Responded the mayor, as he munched on another handful of chips.

\--

_Interviews with witnesses stated that only three individuals were spotted near the invention displays during the break period before the presentation. Witness details specified that the three suspects were of elementary school age and acting, not specifically suspicious, but definitely devious. No reports filed due to age of suspects.  
  
The identities of the three individuals were stated as Ziggy Sæti, age 6, Stingy Spoilero, age 7, and Trixie Troubleby, age 8. All individuals with known histories of mischievous behavior, but nothing that could be classified as of malicious intent or misdemeanor level. However, the three, aside from Pixel, were the only ones present near the inventions prior to the grand presentation._

_Two of the suspects are already in custody. They’ve already confirmed their involvement with the lesser pranks at the festival, but refuse to disclose the presence of a third accomplice. Currently determining an appropriate punishment for their involvement and their resistance in releasing pertinent information.  
  
Evidence found at the scene of the explosion included glitter, an unidentifiable powder, and a goo of oil-based origin, colored red with artificial food dye.  
  
The explosion was fueled by an oil based reaction, due to the need for chemical fire extinguishers to douse the flames, thus the explosion can be traced directly to the mysterious goo.  
  
_

_Known evidence from prior pranks and mischief produced from the three include a recurring trend of red objects, and red is the known favorite color of a Trixie Troubleby…_

Officer Obtuse ran over his observations again and again, and each time his forehead crinkled more. He had probably gone over his notes a hundred times, and each analysis concluded the same result. However, he had to try again. The idea, which would have to fuel his final conclusion, was almost too ridiculous to consider. A child? Responsible for an explosion that ruined the town park and nearly killed an onlooker? Preposterous, he’d say.  
But the evidence told another story.  
A story that was definitely hard to swallow.  
But as part of his duty, he had to present his evidence.

Officer Obtuse dug through his pockets for his long hidden, “only for emergencies” packet of cigarettes. He’d been trying to quit the things, but often during times of stress, he found himself instinctually searching for the sticks of nicotine. He plucked out one and stuck it between his lips, lighting it discreetly before continuing along his way. He blew out a thin stream of smoke as he walked down the sidewalk, his other hand at his baton. As he passed by a few citizens, he gave a polite and curt wave to each of them. Miriam Sæti. Harvey’s father. Robbie Rotten.  
He stopped in his tracks, and turned on his heel to look at the man.  
Robbie was pushing past the other pedestrians, giving not even a grunt as he hastily rushed along. The man was carrying a paper bag that seemed to clink and rattle as he walked.  
“Mr. Rotten?” asked the policeman.  
However, the lanky and reclusive man didn’t hear him. He continued along, crossing the corner and disappearing down a side road.  
Officer Obtuse paused, and continued to stare at where the man had gone. He wondered if Sportacus had known the man had returned. Wait, had _Sportacus_ even returned yet?  
This thought worried Obtuse until another passerby gave him, at least the semblance of, an answer.  
Passing between his legs walked Circe, who was carrying a small paper bag between her teeth. Sportacus’s money pouch, a small leather bag with a looped strap, hung around her neck. She didn’t seem particularly stressed, like she had the previous few days, and even walked with a more casual step in her stride. Obtuse’ shoulders loosened; he assumed that meant Sportacus was back, but potentially just resting at the moment.  
Given all the tales and legends he’d heard about the forest’s strange properties, Obtuse felt that was a good course of action.

He walked down the lane, directing himself towards the town hall. As he strolled along, he slowed as he approached a certain, scraggly farmer, who was loitering near a street lamp, his attention fixed on the town’s park.  
As Obtuse approached, he tipped his hat.  
“Good day, Jack.” He said.  
Jackson turned and nodded.  
“Hello, Oliver. You know what happened here?” he said, pointing to the park.  
Obtuse raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”  
“No. Looks like a mess, whatever it was.” Said Jackson.  
Obtuse bit his lip, considering how to breach the subject to the very father of one of the suspects.  
“Well, I’m first wondering how you missed it. There was an explosion in the park during the festival.”  
Jackson’s face paled.  
“What?” he asked.  
Obtuse held out the carton of cigarettes.  
“You’ll want one of these.” He said.  
Jackson looked at it, considering it a moment, before taking one and nodding his thanks. The policeman lit the cigarette for the farmer.  
“There was…sabotage committed on one of the inventions. The engine of Pixel Hyperbyte, to be precise. It caused a fatal malfunction within the device and it exploded. That’s why there’s metal shrapnel all over town. Didn’t you notice it?”  
Jackson exhaled some smoke and shook his head.  
“No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I’ve been, uh, distracted.”  
“With what?”  
“A book I’m reading. I’ve been reading it for the last few weeks.” Confessed Jackson.  
“Must’ve been some book if it made you miss an explosion.” Said Obtuse with a smirk.  
Jackson looked sagely at the policeman and nodded. “You could say so. Made me do a lot of thinking.” He then looked curiously at the man. “But anyways, do you think you know who caused the explosion?”  
Obtuse’s face paled. “Well, I’ve got a few leads, but I believe that information is confidential for the time.”  
“Fair enough. Wouldn’t want to interfere with an investigation.” Said Jackson, puffing more on the cigarette. “You heading to town hall to speak with the mayor?”  
“Yes, I have a report to give to him.” Officer Obtuse said. He quickly checked his watch. “Speaking of which, I better get going. Don’t want to miss him.”  
“Good luck, Oliver. Hope you catch the rascal that did all this!” Jackson said with a thin smile.  
Obtuse forced a smile. For Jackson’s sake, part of him didn’t want to catch who he thought was responsible.

Approaching the stairs towards town hall, Obtuse stopped only long enough to crush the remains of his cigarette atop the trashcan, disposing of the cigarette butt in the proper receptacle. As he ascended the stairs, he was halted by the sight of Ms. Busybody, who was hastily skipping down the steps.  
“Oh! Officer Obtuse! If you’re going to see the mayor, you might want to wait a while. He’s not in right now.” She said.  
Officer Obtuse’s eyes widened. “What? Where is he?”  
“He stepped out for a bit. I think he needed a little fresh air.” She said. She looked down thoughtfully. “Though, that was almost an hour ago.”  
“Do you want me to look for him?” Obtuse suggested.  
Ms. Busybody shook her head. “I think not. Not for now, at least. I think some space would do him good.”  
“Fair enough.” Officer Obtuse said, straightening out his uniform. “I only came by to report my findings to the mayor. New developments on the festival explosion case.”  
Ms. Busybody perked up, her interest properly piqued. “Well, Mayor Meanswell _did_ put me in charge while he was out. If you give the report to me, I’d be happy to pass along the message.”  
Officer Obtuse looked uneasy.  
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Bessie. This is sensitive information, and I need to protect the identities of the suspects.” He said, slipping into his authoritative voice. He cringed internally, however, as he remembered his slip up earlier with Stephanie. He hoped that, given how good of a kid she was, she wouldn’t spread that information throughout the rest of the town.  
Ms. Busybody, though looking quite disappointed, gave a nod. “Ah yes, that would make sense. I understand then.” She looked up hopefully. “But, you have identified some potential suspects, yes? Do you think you have a solid lead?”  
Officer Obtuse pondered his response before giving a slight, non-committal nod.  
Ms. Busybody lit up. “Oh, how wonderful! Then I guess you’ll want to secure a warrant with the mayor, right?”  
“No.” Officer Obtuse answered quickly.  
Ms. Busybody blinked confusedly. “Well, why not?”

“Because,” The policeman began with a sigh. “I don’t believe that’s necessary.”  
“HOW could it be unnecessary?? The hooligan, or hooligans, blew up our town’s park! I think a warrant is beyond necessary at this point!” said Ms. Busybody.  
“Bessie, please.” Said the policeman tiredly. “I don’t believe it’s necessary because if the perpetrator is our prime suspect, then I believe they’ll reveal themselves in short time.”  
“You do?”  
Officer Obtuse nodded. “The prime suspect isn’t an individual known for this level of misdemeanor. Most likely, they’re fraught with guilt at this time, and will most likely give themselves up shortly. The two other perpetrators I have cracked within seconds of just addressing them, so I believe their leader will follow suit.”  
Ms. Busybody’s lips drew into a thin line. “Well, that does make sense, and I trust your judgement, Obtuse. But what if they don’t?”  
“Then I’ll secure a warrant. In the meantime, when Mayor Meanswell is back in the office, I need to discuss the proper sentence for the two other perpetrators. I believe assigning them to clean up duty will be best.”  
“Only clean up duty? Isn’t that a little light?”  
“For those three? No, I think it’s about right. Any more would be, well, extreme.” Officer Obtuse said with a heavy heart.

Clarity appeared in Ms. Busybody’s eyes as she began to come to her own conclusions. Looking sadly at the officer, she said,  
“I see. Well, I wish you luck, Officer Obtuse. I only hope this mess will be cleaned up shortly, and no irreversible harm is caused.”  
“I can only hope so too.” Said the policeman, as he returned to his patrol around the town.

\--

The first thing Sportacus felt as he awoke was a pair of cold, soft paws kneading against his face. They patted at his chin and nose carefully and gently, and he twitched his nose at the feeling. He groaned, and slowly opened his eyes, looking straight into the gaze of his familiar.  
“M-Morning…” He said groggily.  
“Afternoon, actually.” Circe corrected.  
“What?!” Sportacus said, shooting up into a sitting position. Circe yelped and leapt off his chest as Sportacus flinched at the soreness coursing through his body.  
“Geez relax, Sportacus! I let you sleep in! I know you probably don’t think you needed it, but trust me, you did.” Circe said, looking over the paper bag she’d brought carefully.  
Sportacus allowed the adrenaline to flow out of his body, which was quickly replaced by a weak and shaky feeling in his limbs that mingled with the soreness. It left him feeling like a slug, unwilling to move much more than he had to. It was a feeling wholly unknown to Sportacus, and he hoped to never feel like that again.  
“How do you feel?” asked Circe.  
“Awful.” Sportacus responded honestly. “I feel drained.”  
“Makes sense. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten today, so that doesn’t help.” Circe said, jumping off the bed. She walked over to a small chest and sifted through their shared food supplies before picking out a banana. Carrying it between her teeth, she brought the food to Sportacus. “Here, eat this. If you keep it down, I’ll make you some eggs and toast. Might not be breakfast time, but breakfast always seemed like the most comforting meal to me. Maybe I’ll even crack open the bacon.”  
Sportacus opened his mouth.  
“And before you protest, you’ve been through hell and back, so I think you can afford to be a little unhealthy for once.” Circe said, giving the witch a look.  
Sportacus closed his mouth with a sheepish look as he unpeeled the banana. He took a bite and savored the sweet, mushy taste. Usually, he disliked overripe bananas, but after a day or so of not eating much, any food was a welcome presence.

Circe sat back momentarily, watching her witch eat the banana with an enthusiasm she hadn’t seen for quite some time. At least, not over a banana. Usually, that sort of reverence was reserved for enjoying some fancy, exquisite meal that probably was priced in the high triple digits. But for Sportacus, he gave that grace to a simple banana. Circe figured it spoke something of whatever he endured within the forest, but she decided not to assume.  
She did, however, sniff the air and immediately scrunched her nose.  
“Ah yes, and it smells like you need a bath. Guessing from the still present dirt and splinters that you haven’t had time for that either.”  
Sportacus’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He, to avoid confirming his familiar’s deduction, focused excessively on his mostly eaten banana.  
“Luckily, I pooled some of our money together to get you a little something.” She said with a smile, turning towards the paper bag that laid on the bed.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Oh Circe, you didn’t have to – “  
“Shut up, I did. Anyways, you look like you need to relax a little so I got you a,” she said, before rolling out a small, spherical object covered in glitter across the bed. “Bath bomb! The lady at the store said they’re all the rage.”  
Sportacus looked at the small ball of glitter and smelly dust. It was mostly a pale, lavender color, with stripes of magenta running around it threaded with glitter. Picking it up, Sportacus gave it a sniff, and recoiled. The smell was offensively strong, and stunk of roses, cinnamon, and very fake vanilla. He gently placed it down on the bed.  
“Thank you, Circe. I’ll make use of it in the future.” He said with a strained smile.  
Circe frowned. “Don’t start with that. I know the thing could use some improvements, and I can make them! Just say so, because you need to use it now. It’ll help, so I’ve been told.”  
Not waiting for Sportacus to say anything more, Circe pulled the bath bomb close to her and held it fast with her paw. She closed her eyes, feeling her magic course and pulse within her body. Her whiskers glowed a bright blue as the energy feathered and streamed around her legs, encapsulating the bath bomb with searing light. Sportacus had to look away as Circe opened her eyes, and a wave of blue magic course through the room before bouncing back into the small ball. A small popping sound later, and Circe cleared her throat.  
“Okay, now go and get your bath ready. Then throw this thing into the hot water.” She said, gesturing to the altered bath bomb.  
Sportacus looked back and gawked at the changed bomb. Rather than the lavender color it was before, the bomb was a handsome, midnight blue and speckled with so many glittery colors it was impossible to name. It reminded Sportacus of those lovely opals he’d seen at the jewelry store, the ones he sometimes admired as he passed by. It reflected beams of rainbows onto the walls and the ceilings, and as he picked it up, he could feel the warm, silver magic coat his hands and race up his arms, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.  
He looked at his familiar, who simply nodded towards the door.  
“Don’t make me chase you out. Go get in the tub.” Circe said with a small smile.  
Sportacus nodded, then sauntered towards the bathroom.

After he’d filled the tub full of steaming hot water, Sportacus undressed and carefully got in the bathtub, cringing and recoiling momentarily at the scalding hot water. Eventually, he adjusted and allowed himself to slowly sink into the soothing, hot tub water. He settled in, at first simply taking in the warmth and silence of the bathroom. He scrubbed gently at some of the caked-on dirt, rubbing at his skin with a small wash cloth. He continued this ritual all over his body, cleaning off the dirt with a generous amount of soap. Afterwards, he went about pulling a few of the splinters that still stuck in his skin. It wasn’t fun, and it left his skin feeling sensitive and sore, but Sportacus had to admit he felt better once they were out.  
He then turned his attention to the bath bomb, which sat at the edge of the tub, still shimmering with a near impossible display of colors. He considered it, looking with wonder at this quaint, ball-shaped object. It seemed almost a shame to toss the beauty into the tub, knowing it’ll vanish, but Sportacus didn’t think his familiar would humor the idea of him being so overtaken by its loveliness that he refused to use it.  
Tossing it into the water, the bath bomb instantly exploded into a flurry of fragrant powder, glitter, and bursts of sparkling light that popped and whistled in the air. Sportacus nearly jumped at the sudden symphony of colors and sound, until he felt something soothing overtake his body. It was almost like the water itself was massaging his body, urging him to relax and enjoy the bath. He let his body untense, and he sunk up to his neck in the hot bath water. He sighed as he watched the iridescent swirls of light curl and furl in the water, forming intricate patterns and designs in the foam and bubbles. The water itself seemed to almost glow as it shifted colors, from blue to purple, to pink, to white, to clear, before settling on an opalescent gradient that shimmered like diamonds.  
Lifting his arm, he saw how the enchanted bath bomb left web-like traces of glitter across his skin, which hummed and buzzed in the cool air.  
He chuckled, laying his arm back into the water. This was nice, and Circe was right, he hadn’t realized how much he needed this. He settled back deeper into the water, sinking up to his chin as he rested his head against the wall of the tub. He closed his eyes, and let himself focus on nothing but the sounds of the rippling water, hoping to let his mind clear of all the terrors he experienced in the woods and just be at peace for the time.

…

The universe seemed to have different plans for him, or perhaps he was one of those unfortunate people where silence didn’t really help with relaxation.  
Because with little to distract him, it seemed the silence only made the memories and thoughts about everything he’d seen and heard in the forest feel more pronounced.  
Sportacus felt distinctly uneasy as he heard, within his mind, the high-pitched wails of the broken crystals calling out to him with their swirling, all too bright colors.  
He couldn’t close his eyes, because when he closed them, he could feel the pulse of the tree’s golden heart and the tiny, grabbing roots pulling at his face.  
And the more he let his thoughts remain quiet, the more easily it seemed for his mind to pull images from Robbie’s past.  
Fire.  
Elves with sharp teeth and gleaming blades.  
Blood.  
Screams.  
Smoke.  
Wings.  
Sportacus flailed as he felt his hand slip underneath him, nearly causing him to slip deeper into the tub. With a splash of water, he righted himself, and worked to slow his rapidly beating heart. The water hummed worriedly and continued to soothe his body. It was a strange combination of feelings: while his body was relaxed and limp as a noodle, his mind was still running at millions of miles an hour, sending overcharged signals to his unresponsive body.  
Sportacus wilted. Perhaps it was too hopeful of him to believe that the bath bomb would be that totally helpful.

A knock on the door broke him from his thoughts.  
“Hey, it’s just me. You okay in there? You’ve been in the bath for, like, an hour.” Said Circe from the other side of the door.  
“I have? But the water’s still warm.” Sportacus said weakly.  
“There’s a charm in the bath bomb that keeps the water warm longer. I know it seems devious, but really it was to help you relax. Is it working?” Circe said.  
Sportacus paused, before quietly responding with, “Sort of.”  
“Not able to clear your mind?” she asked.  
Sportacus gave a tired chuckle. “You read my mind.”  
“No need to. I just know you well enough.” Circe said with a hint of pride.  
Sportacus laughed, then silence fell between the two.  
“Would it help for you to talk about it? I’ve heard that sometimes helps people.” Circe said.  
Sportacus sighed, and ran a wet hand through his hair.  
“I don’t even know where to begin.” He admitted quietly.  
“Then just start from the beginning. Don’t spare anything you think is important.” Said Circe encouragingly.  
Taking a deep breath, Sportacus closed his eyes and said, “Okay.”

Sportacus detailed everything he’d seen and experienced during his journey through the forest. He told Circe about the strange, untamed magic that flourished several miles into the woods, and how it’s corrupted the natural plant life beyond recognition. He relayed, with pauses to collect himself, his run-in with the aggressively possessed trees that held broken elf crystals as their hearts, and pulsed with hybrid magic. He told her about the destroyed court, and the visions of Robbie’s past. He concluded by telling her about his final encounter with the man that led to him fleeing the destroyed court, and left Sportacus in the state she’d seen him in yesterday. Throughout his recount, Circe said nothing. The only way Sportacus could tell she was listening was from the occasional hitch in her breathing as he mentioned a particularly tense or gruesome part, or a whispered swear when he described the horrifying destruction of Robbie’s court.

“…and that’s it. That’s everything that happened from when I left to when I came back.” Sportacus said, pausing to take a breath.  
Circe said nothing.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “Circe?”  
A pause.  
“Is the water getting cold?” she asked softly.  
Sportacus, taken aback by the seemingly out of nowhere question, moved his legs a little.  
“Sort of, it’s getting a little chilly.” He responded.  
“Drain the tub then. I left you some clothes outside the door. Put them on and meet me in the bedroom.” She said, before Sportacus heard two pairs of paws tapping against the wood floor, moving away from him.  
Feeling more than a little confused and concerned, Sportacus got out of the tub and toweled off. He grabbed his crystal from his filthy uniform and peeked out the door, spotting the folded t-shirt, sweatpants, and brand new fluffy robe that sat right by the door. He gave a small smile as he retrieved the garments. He quickly threw them on, taking a moment to revel in the soft, fluffy fabric of the robe, before he gathered his dirty uniform and walked back to his bedroom. When he entered, he saw Circe sitting on the bed, looking out the window. A plate with steaming hot eggs, toast, and three slices of bacon sat right beside her.  
“Circe? Are you okay?” He asked nervously.  
A harsh laugh cut through the air.  
“So like you, Sportacus, to ask me if I’m okay when it’s clear _you’re_ the one who needs to be asked that.” She responded.  
Sportacus looked at his familiar with confusion.  
She shook her head. “Sorry for the dramatic exit. I just…had to process everything you told me. It was hard just hearing everything you witnessed and had to deal with. I mean,” she stopped, and sighed. “I partially expected that you might find his court, and that most likely it wouldn’t be in the greatest shape. Otherwise, he’d still be living there. But all the stuff with the wicked trees, and what happened to Mr. Rotten’s family and him, and then what happened when he finally noticed _you_ …” She harshly laughed as she looked at her witch. “I think you could imagine why it’s a little hard to deal with.”  
Sportacus forced a thin smile. “So, I’m guessing what I saw isn’t normal for when a faerie court is eradicated?”  
Circe didn’t smile.   
“No.” She said seriously, the spots on her hackles flashing. “Not even close.”  
Sportacus’s face fell, and his heart grew heavy.  
Circe, the rage finally fleeing from her expression, looked up with concern at Sportacus.  
“When you returned last night, I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what, but I knew it was something huge. Guess I was right. But the real question is,” she said, walking up close to the witch. “are _you_ okay?”  
Sportacus paused, trying to gather his response, though at the moment his mind had decided to conveniently lock up.  
“I mean, I’m fine. It’s…I’m still letting what happened settle. It was a lot, you’re right about that.” Sportacus said with a weak chuckle. “I, uh…I’ll be okay.”  
“That’s not what I asked though.” Circe pressed. “I figure you’ll be okay _eventually_. But right now, what are you feeling?”  
Sportacus felt a flood of…well, nothingness, through him. Like whatever he was feeling had decided to flee at the mere query of his current condition. Scrambling for an answer, he felt something pulse in his hand. He lifted his fingers slightly and peeked at the crystal buried in his fist. It glowed a dim, blue color.  
“Just…” he finally said. “…drained. I don’t know how much I’m really feeling right now. Just a sort of…numbness?”  
Circe nodded. “Even with what Robbie said? How he reacted?”

Sportacus froze, and for a moment, he was dragged back to the scene of Robbie pointing that sword at his head, readying himself to swing it down upon him and end his life right then and there. He paled, and could feel his heart drop into his stomach with the memory.  
“I…” He began to say, before he paused. He sighed, and he could feel his ears droop slightly. “I can understand why he reacted the way he did. Seeing my ears, knowing what I really am after all he went through. I get it. He has every reason not to trust me after losing everything.” He said, his voice growing quiet.  
Circe felt her own ears droop at Sportacus’s statement.  
“But how do you feel about it?” Circe asked, pondering for a moment the stupidity of the question, given the visible evidence she was witnessing.  
Sportacus’s eyes darted up to his familiar, and the answer they gave contradicted the one Sportacus eventually said.  
“It hurt at the time, but I think I’m understanding it better now. In the end, if he doesn’t want anything to do with me, that’s fine. I understand completely. I can hope eventually we’ll be friends again, but if not, that’s okay too.”  
The crystal in his hand flashed purple, then blue, then a mixture of purple and blue in rapid succession.  
Circe didn’t want to argue with her witch. She hoped that, potentially, exhaustion and emotional unrest more fueled the witch’s response than what he thinks are his true, legitimate feelings. Part of her knew that was it. She also knew arguing would only unsettle her witch more, and knowing how much he still had to work through with what he experienced, it’d be unwise to push it further.

“Well, maybe once you’re feeling better you can try and reach out to him.” Circe suggested quietly. “In the meantime, let’s focus on getting you back to normal. Whatever you choose to do, promise me you’ll at least take it easy for the next few days. No running around and flying on your broom.”  
“Shouldn’t I at least let everyone know I’m back and okay?” asked Sportacus.  
“Right, do that. But other than that, treat this like you’ve got a really bad cold.” Circe said. “You need all the rest you can get. And you’ll want to start eating that breakfast. It’s probably getting cold.” She said, hopping off the bed.  
Sportacus nodded and picked up the plate and utensils. He cut off a piece of bacon and scooped some eggs with it. He relished the delicious taste, and before he knew it, he was scooping eggs and bacon onto the toast and wolfing it down. He could almost cry from how great it all tasted.  
“By the way, Sportacus?” said Circe.  
“Hmm?” Sportacus responded, his mouth full of food.  
“If I do catch you trying to fly around before you’re better, I will chain you to the bed. And you know I don’t make those claims lightly.” Circe said, giving him a knowing look before she began to chow on her own eggs and bacon.  
Sportacus chuckled, then took another bite from his toast and eggs. He glanced out the window momentarily, sighing contently at the peaceful scene outside, with the sun shining and the sky a pale blue color.  
As he stared out the window, a crow flew by and uttered a squawked caw. It stopped at the window for a moment, staring at Sportacus. It was for only a brief minute, however, and it was soon back up in the air, flying into the horizon.  
For a second, Sportacus wondered if that was Haninn. And if it was, if Robbie had sent him towards the mayor’s home, and if so, why.

Sportacus looked back down at his breakfast and decided to focus on that. No use ruminating on theories that, by all accounts, were just hopeful speculation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to get this chapter out to you guys since I'll be on the road all day tomorrow, so I'm sorry if it seems a little rushed. I may go back and revise some stuff eventually, especially since I'm at a bit of a roadblock with this story. One of those, I know the conclusion I want, but how to get there is a mystery situations. I'm sure I'll figure it out, but the next chapter might take some time because of it.
> 
> Either way, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and hopefully it was a little break after four chapters of straight angst. (I know there was some angst in this chapter too but uh...LOOK CUTE STUFF. PREGNANCY. KAYA AND EVIE KISSING. PLEASE DON'T KILL ME FOR THE SADS.)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	16. Yes I Can Smile

“Hey Robbie, I, uh, hope you’re doing well.  
I know it’s been a few days and I was in the neighborhood so thought I’d stop by…”  
“ _No, that sounds lame. Too casual too._ ”  
“Hey Robbie, I hope you’re doing okay. Just wanted to talk to you about the stuff in the forest. I, well, know it was a lot to deal with. I completely get it. I’m admittedly still processing it myself.”  
“ _No, don’t bring yourself into it. That sounds selfish, and might give the wrong idea_.”  
“Robbie, I know you’re a faerie now, and I know you’re still worried that I want to kill you. So, I figured, we could make a deal of some sort – “  
“ _No! That’s beyond awful! Why would you even bring that up?_ ”  
“ _Just thought it might make him feel better. Magic deals can’t be broken, so it’s the most secure deal there is._ ”  
“ _Well, considering all of this junk is connected to his status as a faerie, probably a terrible idea, don’t you think?_ ”  
“ _Definitely right. Okay, let me think of something else. Think, Sportacus, think…_ ”

Sportacus sighed, and looked forlornly at the wooden door.  
He listened close, hoping to hear some sign of the man within his home.  
A shuffle of shoes, or perhaps the rhythmic humming of his sewing machines.  
Even the cawing of Haninn would at least give Sportacus a hint to whether he was home.  
…perhaps part of him didn’t want him to be home right now. He’d have heard all his terrible first attempts to start a conversation with him.  
He didn’t hear anything inside, so he supposed his hopes were both dashed and granted.  
He waited for another moment, all the while brainstorming just how he’d talk to his now estranged friend. He knew he wanted to get it right, but the proper way was eluding him.  
After all, there weren’t exactly a ton of books in library on, “how to win back your friend/possible romantic interest after learning his traumatic and tragic backstory and in spite of his probable hatred towards the race that caused his trauma which doesn’t exclude you”.  
The moment passed, and he heard nothing inside the small, poorly lit abode.

Turning on his heel, Sportacus sighed once more and dragged his partly mended broom behind him.  
His boots clicked against the pavement as he walked down the road, squinting as the light faded from the gradually ending day. The sun was setting, and the sky had grown a mixture of blue, pink, and orange in hue.  
_Orange_.  
Sportacus shivered, and turned his head back down to the sidewalk. The orange remained like a specter, staining the gray cement a tinge of orange, much like an orange popsicle. Sportacus pursed his lips, and decided to distract himself by examining his still-damaged broomstick. It needed some serious fixing, perhaps some concentrated magic to sew the fibers of the wood back together and strengthen the broom’s magic core. He’d have to carve some time out of his schedule to do so; magic repair was a laborious and intensive project, but he’d have to do it soon. Too much jostling would surely split his beloved transport in two, and making a new broom was an even more difficult task than mending one.  
Stopping, he gave one last look at Robbie’s home, and considered trying one more time to create the perfect way to rebuild the bridge between him and his friend.  
He almost took that first step towards his home, but stopped.  
He shook his head.  
Even if he continued to stay there, there’s no telling if he’d come up with what he wanted to say then.  
Also, Circe and Stephanie would probably worry if he missed dinner.

Shuffling his feet, Sportacus made his way down the road and back towards the Meanswell residence.

“ _Oh well,_ ” he thought. “ _there’s always tomorrow_.”

\--

Ms. Busybody had been flipping through a new copy of _Nosy’s Noses_ magazine when she heard the bells above her shop door jingle. She looked up and, with a wide smile, watched Sportacus enter the shop, lacking his broom.  
“Well, good morning, Sportacus dear! You must be feeling better if you’re here!” she said chipperly, putting down her magazine.  
Sportacus gave a small smile and nodded. “Much better! How are you doing, Ms. Busybody? Stephanie and the mayor told me that you’ve been helping with the clean-up plans.”  
Ms. Busybody sighed and nodded. “Oh yes, the clean-up details. Goodness it’s been a handful! I’m doing fine. After all, I’ve always thought of myself as a leaderly person. But poor Milford, he seems to not handle the pressure well! Save for the day he went on that lunch and, goodness, smelled like a skunk, he’s been a bundle of nerves!”  
Sportacus crooked the corner of his mouth. He was aware enough of the mayor’s activities that day, but decided not to say anything. Nor would he say anything if he decided to imbibe himself again. Only if it became a serious problem, he had decided earlier.  
“Well, I know that the mayor is dealing with a lot of stress right now. I’m sure he’ll be better once it’s all over.” Sportacus noted as he began to stack the latest delivery into a small plastic bag.   
“Oh, I know you’re right, Sportacus. But I still do worry about poor Milford. No matter what I try, I can’t cheer him up, and that’s what concerns me! I’m sure he’ll talk about what’s bothering him once he’s ready though.” Ms. Busybody said, briefly returning to her magazine. She lit up as she flipped the page to a silly quiz which supposedly would provide the answer to your ideal date night perfume.  
Sportacus paused briefly and gave a short nod. He began to pack the plastic bag more quickly. He snapped his fingers to magically tie the bag, only to find his magic stalling. He frowned, and snapped his fingers again. This time, the bag tied itself in a flush of blue sparks. The silence had started to let his train of thought run, the one that currently was running to places he didn’t want to think about, which he knew could be remedied by conversation or work. And since the conversation had died out…

Sportacus had started towards the door when Ms. Busybody spoke up again.  
“Oh Sportacus, dear, I almost forgot to ask! You spent that time in the forest, right? How was it? Did you see anything _enchanted_?” she asked excitedly.  
Sportacus flinched, stopping dead in his tracks. He considered his answer before turning around and forcing a smile.  
“Well, it was certainly…something. I can say that at least.” He answered weakly.  
“Now now, Sportacus, don’t skimp on the details!” Ms. Busybody scolded. She leaned forward and perched her chin on her palms. “I want to know about everything you saw in that forest! I’ve always heard how haunted and cursed it was, so I’m curious! I would make the trek myself, but you know that outdoorsy activities have never been my thing. Too much dirt! So, spill! What did you see?”  
Sportacus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  
“I, uh, have a lot of errands to run, Ms. Busybody. I don’t think I have – “  
“Pish posh! Those deliveries can wait! They’re just some new shorts for the Spoilero family, and they can wait an extra hour for them!” Ms. Busybody insisted. Pursing her lips, she smiled. “Tell you what, let’s go get an early lunch! Then you can tell me everything about the forest. Put down your bag, I know a cute little café across town. Should have something you like there!”  
Before Sportacus could decline, Ms. Busybody had grabbed his wrist and started leading him towards the door. Part of him wanted to dig his heels into the floor and gravely insist that his work was most important right now, if only to avoid talking about the painful and uneasy topic of his time in the LazyTown woods and his meeting with Robbie.  
Then again, he did usually enjoy Ms. Busybody’s company. Granted, she was a bit gossipy and pushy for his taste, but she was genuinely a nice person with a kind heart. Sportacus thought about the lunch more, and a grim realization crossed his mind. There was that chance (an unpleasant one he didn’t like to consider) that Robbie would never want to re-establish their friendship, which would leave Sportacus at near zero adult friends. If they were going to play the waiting game, he might as well take the time to get to know some of the other adults, right?  
He weakly smiled. “What kind of café is it, Ms. Busybody?”  
“Oh Sportacus, dear, you can call me Bessie! I believe we’ve known each other long enough for that, don’t you agree? And it’s this scrumptious place called the White Truffle...”

The White Truffle, for a lack of a better description, was the sort of café most individuals who knew Ms. Busybody well enough would assume was tailor made for her. It was a locale that held a flair of elegance, however its definition of elegance was slightly skewed towards more garish and slightly snooty. All that Sportacus knew, at the least, was as soon as he stepped one foot in the restaurant, he felt the distinctive feeling of not belonging. Almost like a million eyes were drilling into him from all sides, not with hatred, but with haughty disapproval. The maître d had given a passive, encompassing glance at both him and Ms. Busybody, his lips never twitching past anything above a neutral disapproval, as he gathered two menus and sat them near the side of the café. In a low, steady voice, the waiter took their orders. Sportacus ordered a simple chef’s salad, hold the dressing. He mostly ordered that dish because of his inability to process sugar and because of the prices that nearly made his jaw drop. He figured that any dish that teeters on the border towards triple digits was far overpriced. Then again, these prices didn’t seem to deter Ms. Busybody, who consequently ordered the coq au vin with a glass of white wine. The waiter only gave a curt nod and, with what Sportacus thought was a slightly sneering glance, he turned away and briskly strode towards the kitchen.  
“I’ve heard that this place was wonderful, but I truly never expected it to be this decadent? Don’t you agree, Sportacus? That this place is truly divine?” asked Ms. Busybody expectantly.  
Sportacus took one quick look at the lavish gold detailing near the borders and the deep tones of red that colored the walls, which were accented with crystal lighting fixtures.  
“It certainly is something.” He said in a tone both quiet yet trying to be polite.  
Ms. Busybody must’ve missed his apprehension or misgivings since she then folded her hands together and looked at Sportacus with anticipation.

“Well, now that we have lunch on the way, perhaps you’re ready to tell me about your adventures in the forest?” Ms. Busybody said, only stopping to give a nod of thanks to the waiter who poured her glass of white wine.  
Sportacus waited for the waiter to serve his ice water before responding.  
“Well, uh, there’s…not much to say.” He fibbed, taking a slow sip of chilly water.  
Ms. Busybody frowned.  
“Nonsense. You were gone for over a day, and then you took an additional few days before anyone saw you again. Surely you must have had some sort of adventure?” She asked. She grinned once more. “You must tell me, were there any enchanted creatures in the woods? I’ve heard people mention the possibility of unicorns and centaurs roaming the forests!”  
Sportacus let a small smile slip past him.  
“N-No, no unicorns or anything like that. No enchanted creatures of any kind, really. I think I saw a squirrel in the first mile of walking.”  
“Was it an enchanted squirrel?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “Nope. Then again, I didn’t ask it.” He said with a chuckle.  
Ms. Busybody bit her lip in disappointment.  
“I see. Well, maybe not cursed fauna then? How about the plant life? Those trees must be quite strange if they’re magical!”  
Sportacus nearly choked on his water. Immediately, images of the cursed trees swam into his head. The musty, rotted sawdust smell. The golden glow of the broken crystal. The wailing.  
Stuffing down his fears, he gave a weak smile and an uneasy chuckle.  
“They’re, uh, not much different than regular trees. I’d say they’re, um, a little more lively than regular trees.”  
“Oh?” asked Ms. Busybody. “How so?”  
A bead of sweat built on Sportacus’s brow. “Just they’re, uh, more willing to act upon your presence? I don’t know, I tried to run past them. Don’t want to put myself in any more danger than necessary, you know?”  
Ms. Busybody nodded sagely. “I guess that would make sense. Still, it would’ve been interesting to really interact with such enchanted flora! Just to see how they act and all. I would’ve loved to observe them myself, if I wasn’t so against outdoorsy activity.”  
“ _I would never wish an interaction with those trees upon anyone._ ” Sportacus thought to himself grimly as he took another sip of water.  
At that time, the waiter emerged with their food. He carefully placed Sportacus’s chef salad down in front of him. Sportacus glanced over his meal, raising an eyebrow at the included deviled eggs and anchovies. He never understood why people would want smelly fish included in their salad. To him, salad was just for sportscandy. He gave a polite smile of thanks to the waiter as he served Ms. Busybody her own meal, which was elegantly decorated with a sprig of rosemary.

For a while, the two dug into their meals. Ms. Busybody seemed fully enthralled with her meal, and Sportacus had to admit that it smelled lovely. In comparison, his salad, while good, seemed lacking. The tomatoes and arugula did add some to the taste, however, along with the watercress. Overall, Sportacus preferred his own homemade salads, but it wasn’t terrible. He wished it wasn’t $25 though.  
Ms. Busybody wiped her mouth daintily, taking pause from her lunch. She took a sip of wine before she spoke again.  
“Well Sportacus, while I am disappointed that the enchanted forest isn’t as, well, marvelous as I thought it’d be, I am glad you’re okay. Though, I must ask, did you ever find Robbie? I know you went in looking for him.” She asked.  
A piece of lettuce nearly fell out of Sportacus’s mouth.  
“Um…” Sportacus said quietly, finishing his bite of salad. He thought over his answer. He didn’t want to lie, but at the same time how exactly do you explain what happened? How do you explain to someone with little to no experience with magical politics and physiognomy the importance of a faerie’s wings, or why the elves would go so far as to horrifically destroy a court and leave nearly no survivors? Then again, much less any of that, Sportacus knew he couldn’t reveal Robbie’s secret. As much as he hated doing it again, he’d have to lie at least a little.  
“No. Well…” Sportacus started to say, feeling that uneasy tingling underneath his skin. He just couldn’t lie again to her. “…I did, but it didn’t go as I planned.”  
Ms. Busybody’s smile fell. She replaced her glass of wine and leaned forward.  
“Sweetheart, is everything okay between you two?” she asked quietly.  
Sportacus shrugged and looked off to the side.  
“You…You could say we’re going through a rough time right now.” He answered.  
Ms. Busybody nodded, then gently cupped one of Sportacus’s hands in her own.  
“I can only imagine how you feel. A lovers’ quarrel is never pleasant, and always painful.”  
Sportacus’s cheeks burned a bright pink.  
“A what??”  
“You understand what I’m saying. Perhaps not a lovers’ quarrel, but a quarrel nonetheless.” Ms. Busybody said.   
“B-Bessie, it’s not like – “  
“Did something happen with you two?”  
Sportacus bit his lip. “Well, the last time we were…hanging out together, there was a bit of a, um…” He pondered his words carefully. “…miscommunication. There were some feelings and words thrown around that were, um, unpleasant and he took off. I tried to find him, but couldn’t.”  
Ms. Busybody gave a sad smile. “You care about him a lot, don’t you sweetie? I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I? I know you jumped at the ‘lovers’ quarrel’ bit, but that holds more truth than you say, doesn’t it?”  
Sportacus froze. He tried to shake his head, but he knew the heat in his face betrayed what he was feeling. Still, he tried to deny it.  
“I care about him, but not…well no, I mean…I just care about fixing our friendship.” Sportacus said lamely.  
Ms. Busybody frowned. “I may not find you very convincing, but if that’s how you really feel, then I’ll tell you what I think. I think – “

A shrill, loud ringing sound broke through the air.

Ms. Busybody’s eyes widened.   
“Oh! Hold on, I’m getting a call.” She said, quickly fishing through her purse.  
She pulled out a bright red cellphone and flipped it open.  
“Hello? Oh, hello Phyllis! I’m sorry, this is a bad time, could you…” Ms. Busybody started to say. She gasped. “No! You mean _that_ Doris Munz? She…NO! You’re kidding me!” she said, her excitement heightening her voice. She placed a hand over the receiver and looked at Sportacus apologetically. “Sorry sweetie, I’ll just be on the phone another minute.” She then returned to her conversation. “So exactly _who_ did she vacation in Cancun with? …NO! THE POOL BOY??”  
Sportacus bit his lip. He knew how these conversations went, and how long they droned on for. He sighed, and ate up the rest of his salad with a lack of enthusiasm.  
Wiping off his mouth, he laid some money on the table to pay his half of the bill.  
“Thank you for lunch, Ms. Busybody.” He said, hoping to get her attention.  
She was still too enthralled in the latest gossip to notice Sportacus.  
With a nod, he turned and sauntered out of the restaurant.

\--

He knocked on the door with enough emphasis to hopefully get the man’s attention.  
“Hey Robbie, are you in?” asked Sportacus.  
Silence.  
Sportacus sighed as he played around with something in his pocket.  
“I’m, uh, sorry for bothering you again. I understand if you still want space, but I just wanted to say something to you beforehand. I also know, uh, that I’ve tried this a few times already. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to mess up…you know…” He said, his voice tapering off.  
Nothing.  
Sportacus sighed again and kicked the tip of his shoe into the cement.  
“Come on, Sportacus…” he muttered to himself.  
His fingers played around with the object in his pocket.  
“If it helps, Robbie, you can just forget about that night on my broom. I understand that might make things a little messier. Probably a lot harder to figure out. I get it.” He said hopefully.  
Still nothing.  
Sportacus’s lips drew into a thin line. He pulled out the object from his pocket, a small bracelet made of purple and silver plastic beads.  
“I know it’s kind of silly, but I made you this…friendship bracelet.” Sportacus said, winging at how lame the gesture must’ve seen. He gently laid it on the stoop. “It’s purple, your favorite color, and some silver because we ran out of red.”  
Sportacus stood back up and stared at the door. He still couldn’t hear anything inside.  
He looked and nodded, then turned away back towards the street.  
“Have a good day, Robbie.” He said, before he left.

Unbeknownst to Sportacus, the door did crack open once he left. And a hand took hold of the small charm bracelet, and took it inside.

\--

Sportacus landed gently on the ground and pushed open the bakery door, being greeted with the sweet scent of freshly baked bread that warmed a part of his heart.  
As he entered, Jives perked up from his spot behind the counter, a silly grin crossing his face.  
“Hey-o witch-man! How’s it going? You ready for the next round of rolls to deliver? Because man, we’ve got a billion to get rid of.” Jives said with a laugh.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right? You don’t _actually_ have a billion, right?”  
Jives shrugged. “Nah, just a few hundred. Pop stress baked again, but don’t worry about him. He’s doting on my mom now, taking care of my little sister!”  
Sportacus smiled widely. “Really? Congratulations, Jives!” He paused. “Wait, do they know the baby’s gender yet?”  
“Nope. But I’ve got an intuition about these sorts of things.” Jives said smugly, tapping his forehead. He lifted a large bag filled with biscuits onto the counter. “Now these need to go to the Troublebys. I hear Jackson is making some mean biscuits and gravy this weekend. Who knows, maybe you’ll get a sample of it.”  
Sportacus hoisted the sack over his shoulder. “I’ll make sure it gets there right away!”  
He turned to start towards the door when his eyes caught sight of something in the display case.  
It was a chocolate icing covered cake that was decorated with three flower blossoms, two fondant butterflies, and a swirl of strawberry icing.  
Robbie’s favorite cake.

Sportacus could feel his shoulders visibly sag at the sight, though he fought through his heavy feelings as he gave a grin to Jives.  
“I’ll be back in a jiff!” He said chipperly.  
He was taken aback, however, once he saw the scrutinizing look the teen was giving him.  
“Something wrong?” he asked.  
“Yeah Sportacus, it’s with you! I saw your shoulders sag right there. Something bumming you out?” Jives said.  
Sportacus bit his lip and sighed. He might as well tell the teen. He didn’t want a repeat of his lunch with Ms. Busybody.  
“Robbie and I had a falling out and, well, he doesn’t want to talk right now. And I’m not sure he’ll want anything to do with me ever again.” Sportacus said quietly.  
Jives’ eyes widened. “Oh geez, trouble in paradise? I know that crap all too well!” He stood up straight, a determined look in his eyes. “Don’t worry my witch-man, I’ve got a perfect plan to woo your boyfriend right back!”  
Sportacus’s face flushed a bright red. “J-Jives! It’s not like that! Besides, I don’t think this is a simple situation to solve. And wooing would be completely inappropriate. He needs time.”  
“First off, dude, it totally is like that. Trust me, I know how you two look at each other. I’d be the most stupid kid on the planet to not see it.” Jives said plainly.  
Sportacus’ blushed an even brighter red, and he could feel his heart grow heavy.  
“Jives, really – “ Sportacus started.  
“Second, I think you underestimate the power of a romantic gesture. I’ve seen it work in, like, a bazillion movies! Guy and gal are in love, they have a nasty fight, and the guy lifts a boombox over his head and woos her with 80’s music!”  
“They do that in all those movies?” Sportacus asked with a cocked eyebrow.  
“I mean, no, that’d be bogus. Too easy to guess the ending. But in the good ones, they do! So, what do you say?” Jives asked eagerly.  
Sportacus looked down thoughtfully, considering Jives’ idea before he finally shook his head. “It’s a nice idea, Jives, but I really don’t think it’s going to help. What’s making Robbie not want to talk is, well, tricky to talk about and even harder to help him with.”  
“Oh? What’s that?”  
Sportacus cringed. “I…can’t say. It’s not mine to talk about.”  
Jives looked disappointed. “Man, well, I mean if you don’t think it’ll help…” Then, a grin crossed his face. “…then again, wouldn’t hurt to try, right? I’ve got a boombox upstairs! Wait right here!”  
Sportacus prepared to protest, but the teen had already bolted into the back kitchen and the witch could hear his footsteps clomping up the stairs. He sighed wearily and ran a hand down his face.  


Minutes later, Sportacus was reluctantly tromping along with Jives towards Robbie’s home. The witch cringed and tried to bury himself in the overly large trench coat Jives had dug out from his father’s closet for him. Part of him was glad that he was wearing a pair of ridiculous Ray-bans, if only to hide his face from the staring townsfolk.  
“Jives, really, I don’t think this is going to work. Do I _have_ to try this?” Sportacus asked, giving a sheepish smile to one townsfolk who was giving him a hard glare.  
Jives gave a determined nod. “Absolutely, dude. The look is essential. People love a man in eighties garb.”  
“I think the townsfolk would beg to differ.” Sportacus noted uneasily.  
“They’re just taken back by your swag, witch-dude! Trust me, the Rotten man will dig it.” Jives said. “We getting close to his place?”  
Sportacus nodded. “Right over there.”  
The two men stopped across the street from Robbie’s porch. Sportacus gulped down a thick breath as he adjusted his grip on the boombox.  
Jives bent down and picked up a stone from the ground. “Here, chuck this at his window.”  
Sportacus looked at the teen in shock. “What?? Why would I do that?!”  
“To get his attention! Duh! Boy, you’re really new to this, aren’t you?” Jives said.  
“Jives, I really don’t think Robbie would appreciate getting his window smashed!” Sportacus protested.  
Jives frowned. “Fine, no rock throwing then. I’m just going to say that that would’ve been the icing on the cake.” He said, tossing the rock to the side.  
Sportacus nodded and hoisted the boombox over his head.  
“Uh, dude? You have to turn it on first.” Jives said.  
“No worries. I can turn it on from here.” Said Sportacus.  
Jives grinned. “With magic??”  
Sportacus smiled. “Yup, just a little.”  
With that, Sportacus closed his eyes and fixed his attention on the switchboard of the boombox. He thought of electricity, and the clicking of switches. He muttered the word for “on” under his breath, and waited for the start of the eighties mixtape Jives had produced for him.

Except, there was nothing.

Sportacus quirked one eye open and looked at the boom box.  
“On!” he urged again, looking intently at the boombox.  
Again, nothing, save for a quick spark of blue.  
Sportacus frowned, biting his lip.  
“Is that supposed to happen?” asked Jives.  
Sportacus sighed and lowered the boombox.  
“No, it’s not. It’s weird; I was having problems with spells the other day too.” He noted with concern. Flipping the boombox around, he fumbled for the manual “on” switch instead. With a click and a sputter, the retro music player whirred to life, playing the first song on the tape.  
_*fzzt* *click*  
Something happens and I’m head over heels  
I never find out till I’m head over heels  
Something happens and I’m head over heels  
Ah don’t take my heart, don’t break my heart  
_ “A little on the nose, don’t you think?” Sportacus asked with wavering composure and unease.  
“He’ll eat it up, dude!” Jives said with a grin. He pointed to the roof. “See? Even his crow is chilling to these retro beats.”  
Sportacus looked up, his eyes widening as he watched Haninn open his beak and caw warningly to the two of them.  
“Um, Jives…”  
“Bet he loves Tears For Fears also!” Jives noted proudly.  
“Jives…” Sportacus said with unease.  
The bird fluffed its feathers out wide and puffy, and began to crow and caw more shrilly.  
Jives deflated. “Um, that’s not good, is it?”  
“Nope.”  
“Should we run?”   
Sportacus nodded. “Yup.”

The two were chased away by Haninn, who continuously divebombed at the two and narrowly missed snatching Jives’ green beanie. All the while they ran, their running soundtrack was composed of Tears For Fears, Air Supply and (strangely enough), Captain and Tennille. The latter seemed to annoy the bird the most.  
“Well, _ow_ , maybe we could, _ouch_ , try this again, _you son of a_ , tomorrow?” Jives asked hopefully, as he was interrupted by Haninn pecking at his hands and ears.  
Sportacus harshly shook his head as he batted away the aggressive bird.  
“How about, _ouch_ , let’s not and, _ow_ , say we did?” said Sportacus, his tone slightly down and almost defeated.  
Jives sighed.  
“Okay man. We’ll call it quits. Though what if I made a better mixtape?” he asked hopefully.  
“Jives!” Sportacus said, sounding much more exasperated as he fought off Robbie’s livid pet.  
“Kidding! Just kidding!” Jives partly fibbed, as the two sprinted towards the bakery.

\--

Sportacus didn’t stop by Robbie’s place afterwards.

Or more, he did, but with each successive visit, his attempts to speak to the recluse grew shorter and shorter.  
Even with all the time to think and plan, Sportacus just couldn’t get the words to sound right. Couldn’t get his message spoken clearly enough that his chances of reaching the man would be successful.  
So much of him wanted to get it right, that when he stood on that stoop, he was paralyzed.  
After some time, he wasn’t sure how or what to say.

His latest visit composed of him leaving a single post-it note on his door, fluorescent yellow and forming a glaring contrast against the aged wood.  
Its message was the following:

_Hey Robbie,_

_I found this comic in the paper today and thought you might find it funny. Mayor Meanswell sure laughed at it. I hope you’re feeling well today._

_-S_

The comic strip’s punchline involved a dog that wore pants.

The note was gone within an hour.

\--

“Two orders of the breakfast plate, Opal, and hold the bell pepper. Also, two cups of coffee. Black for both.”

The waitress named Opal, an aged woman with tired eyes and hair the color of old ketchup, gave a curt nod and scribbled on her notepad. She turned and slapped the order to the wheel, spinning it in view of the cooks who worked tirelessly in the kitchen.  
Jackson sighed and tapped a finger against the counter, before turning to Sportacus.  
The witch was playing with his napkin, flipping through its layers like a magazine.  
“You look troubled, Sportacus. Got something on your mind?” asked the farmer.  
Sportacus sighed, and gave a slow nod.  
“I do. It…well it involves Robbie. Mr. Rotten, I mean.” He responded.  
“Ah yes, the elusive designer. I know you two spend lots of time together.” Jackson said, giving a brief thanks to Opal for the coffee.  
Sportacus also thanked Opal and took a sip from his cup of coffee. He grimaced; the coffee was about as bitter as one might expect from a small diner.  
“So, what’s between you two? Mr. Rotten’s quirks getting you down? Perhaps his flip-flopping demeanor gotten you confused. Those are my guesses.” Jackson said, taking a large gulp of coffee before adding a dash of creamer.  
“No, nothing like that.” Sportacus said, taking another sip. “We, um, just aren’t talking right now. Or more, he doesn’t want to talk to me.”  
Jackson slowly lowered his cup. “Ah, I see. Had an argument I’m guessing?”  
“No…well, yes? Sort of? It’s, well it’s…it’s complicated.” Sportacus said, finishing with a sigh.  
“Given the service at this place, we’ve got all day.” Jackson said with a laugh. “Besides, I think I’d prefer to hear about your problems than think about mine.”  
Sportacus looked at the farmer curiously. “You’re worried about something too?”  
“You betcha, but that’s not the question. We can talk my own stuff later. You first.” Jackson said.  
“To be honest, I don’t know how much I can talk about.” Sportacus admitted.  
“Well, just say what you know you can say.” Jackson said patiently.  
Sportacus sighed. “Okay, I’ll try.”

The witch sat back and twisted the coffee cup in his hand.  
“It all started with a ride on my broom. We were about to, well…” He said, pausing at the memory.  
Jackson made a monotone noise.  
“You two are an item?” he asked, his voice tempered to softness.  
Sportacus’s lips drew into a thin line.  
“Not exactly. It’s, well, complicated. Just friends, that’s all.” Sportacus said weakly.  
“Right.” Jackson said, taking another sip of his coffee. “Continue.”  
Sportacus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  
“I can’t say why but, basically we became aware of something that defined each other that didn’t, well, sit well with him. He left as soon as he found out and I couldn’t find him for quite a while.”  
“Must’ve been bad.” Jackson noted.  
“You have no idea.” Sportacus said sadly. “The day of the festival, I got a hint that he might be in the forest so I travelled through it to find him.”  
“The forest? The cursed one?” Jackson asked in shock.  
“The same.” Sportacus said, taking a gulp of air before he continued. “It was, well, there were things I saw in there that I never would’ve thought I’d ever see.” He said, his voice growing quieter.  
“Judging from how you look, I’d say you don’t need to go into detail.” Replied Jackson, his brow furrowed with concern.  
“If you’re okay with that, thank you.” Sportacus said. “I did find him, and…” he said, his voice trailing off as more memories flooded his mind.  
“Whatever happened definitely affected you, that I see.” Jackson noted sagely.  
“I’m fine.”  
“Don’t believe it for a second, but okay.” Jackson said with a frown. “So, have you see the man since then?”  
Sportacus shook his head. “No, I’ve tried to find him and talk to him, but haven’t succeeded yet.”  
“I know you’ve tried. I saw you and Jives with a boombox yesterday. I may wear overalls and muddy boots most days, but even I know that outfit was a misstep.” Jackson noted, taking another sip.  
Sportacus laughed awkwardly. “Yeah that…that wasn’t well thought out.”  
“No kidding.” Jackson said flatly.  
Sportacus bit his lip. “I just…I don’t know what to do. I keep trying to make things right with him, but I know I shouldn’t keep trying seeing as it looks like he’s not ready. I just…I don’t know why I’m still trying.”  
“You don’t?” asked Jackson skeptically.  
Sportacus paused, then shook his head. “It’s all just making me feel mixed up right now.”

At that point, Opal passed by and served both men their meals. Jackson scooped up a forkful of eggs and slightly greasy bacon. As he chewed, he said,  
“Well, you know what I do when I’m feeling mixed up like that?”  
Sportacus looked at him curiously. “What?”  
“Just ignore it.” He answered plainly.  
Sportacus frowned. “You mean…just not think about things? Stuff it down?”  
“Sure. Works well for me. Makes it easier to get back to work on time.” Jackson said with a shrug.  
Sportacus pursed his lips. He played around with his food, poking at it with his fork.  
“That, well, it just doesn’t sound healthy.” Sportacus noted.  
“Mustn’t be that bad. You’re doing it too.” Jackson said.  
Sportacus sat up straight. “But I’m not! I just told you everything that’s been bothering me lately!”  
The farmer lowered his eyes at the witch. “That’s exactly the problem. You gave me a play-by-play, which is all well and good, but I don’t have much of an idea of how you are _feeling_ about what happened and how you feel now. I can make assumptions based on seeing you, but you really aren’t sharing much in the way of details.” He took another bite of eggs and bacon. “Again, I’m no spokesperson for sharing feelings and emotions. All I’m saying is if you think you haven’t been stuffing down some personal truths in front of me, I’m just gonna say that you’ve gotten yourself pretty well fooled.”  
Sportacus felt his heart grow heavy. He slowly turned back to his food, and took a small forkful of eggs. He chewed on it without enthusiasm, the taste bland and slightly off.  
“So, it’s whatever you want to do Sportacus. You can either share how you’re feeling about your little situation, or not. Either way, it’s up to you.” Jackson said, taking a bite of his toast.  
Sportacus sighed, then quietly responded with,  
“I don’t know what I _want_ to feel about this.”

Before Jackson could speak once more, the two’s attention turned to the kitchen door swinging open. Emerging from the kitchen came a corpse-like man who stared at the establishment with a judging and unfocused eye. He squinted his gaze and scoured his restaurant, before his attention stopped at Sportacus.  
He froze, then gritted his mouth of missing teeth.  
“Aye, so you’ve come back, haven’t you _witch_?” Mr. Ehrman said with extra venom at the end. He snatched a broom from the side wall and pointed it threateningly at Sportacus. “Finally come to snatch my wife and cook her for dinner, eh? Well, I ain’t gonna make it easy for ya!”  
Opal simply sighed and ducked underneath the counter, giving an apologetic look to Sportacus.  
Sportacus stood up and frowned.  
“Mr. Ehrman please, for the last time, I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m just here to have breakfast.”  
“Which would mean my wife, you son of Satan!” spat Mr. Ehrman.  
Jackson groaned and stepped in front of Sportacus.  
“Ehrman, friend, believe me. We’re just having breakfast, and Sportacus is no cannibal.”  
“Jackson! You traitor, you side with a child-eating witch??” Mr. Ehrman growled. He raised the broom higher. “Then I’ll just have to fight you both!”  
“I’m not going to fight you, Ehrman.” Jackson sighed.  
Mr. Ehrman lowered his eyes. “Then step aside, Troubleby, and let me sock that blasted witch behind you!”  
“Mr. Ehrman, we don’t mean any trouble – “Sportacus said, before flying to the floor as Mr. Ehrman chucked a coffee mug at his head. The ceramic coffee mug shattered into dozens of large, sharp pieces and scattered across the floor.  
“Imma give you two seconds to run yourself out of my restaurant before I treat you the way witches are supposed to be treated!” threatened Mr. Ehrman, throwing another coffee cup at Sportacus and Jackson.  
Sportacus grabbed the farmer and rolled out of the way with him, dodging another cup. He wasn’t so lucky with the third cup, which struck his right shoulder, bouncing off and rolling across the floor. He cringed at the dull pain lancing down his arm.  
“You’re outta seconds, witch! Prepare to burn!” Mr. Ehrman growled.  
Sportacus’s eyes grew wide as he watched the old man raise a larger, china plate above his head, aiming it threateningly at him and Jackson.  
Adrenaline kicked in, and soon Sportacus was in fight or flight mode. The door was too far away, and he wouldn’t have time to get up and run. He was left with one option, but his mind felt too flooded to come up with spells.  
Finally, he gritted his teeth and raised his hand. Mr. Ehrman froze and nearly dropped the plate.  
“Levitate!” Sportacus shouted in an ancient tongue, his eyes focused on the angry old man. A flash of blue flickered in his eyes as he continued to focus.

Silence fell in the room.

Sportacus, in shock, thrust his hand out once more.  
“Levitate!” he beckoned again.  
Nothing.  
Nothing, save for a few weak sparks that fizzled from his fingertips and fell lamely to the ground. All the while, Mr. Ehrman remained on the ground.  
As the seconds passed, Mr. Ehrman’s original rage flickered back to life. He grabbed a cast iron skillet off the counter and lifted it up by his ear.  
“This’ll teach you for trying to cast a hex on me!” He said, charging towards Sportacus.  
Jackson, finally leaping to his feet, rushed the old man and threw his arm around his shoulders, narrowly holding back the man from clubbing Sportacus with the pan.  
“Sportacus! Run! I’ll meet up with you later!” Jackson urged as he struggled with the surprisingly strong old man.  
Without another thought, Sportacus sprinted out of the restaurant, leaving the messy scene behind. Crashing through the front door, Sportacus looked around wildly for his broom, remembering that he’d parked it by the café’s corner. Lifting it up, he leapt out into the street as he heard more crashing inside, and a set of angry footsteps charging towards the door. He straddled his broom and kicked his heels, urging the broom upwards. Much to his surprise, the broom remained still.  
“Come on! We’ve got to run!” Sportacus said frantically.  
The café’s door slammed open, and Sportacus caught a glimpse of the livid Mr. Ehrman, who had apparently gotten a plate of scrambled eggs dumped on him at some point.  
“You witch better run! I don’t want to see your hide in my restaurant ever again!” shouted Mr. Ehrman.  
Sportacus took off running, holding his broom underneath him. He hoped that, perhaps, with a running start, the broom would accomplish lift-off in that fashion. With a grunt and a hop, he leapt up into the air, his mind begging his broom to gain lift and fly him up to the safety of the cloud layer.  
He felt his heart freeze once he realized the absence of that familiar floating sensation, and instead felt the terrifying sensation of falling.  
With a gasp and a groan, Sportacus tumbled across the pavement. He rolled a foot away, and he near instantly shot back up into a sitting position. He checked himself quickly. Not a scratch or a bruise anywhere.   
The same couldn’t be said for his broom.  
Sportacus had thought he’d heard a _crack_ when he hit the ground, and to his horror he realized the sound belong to the broomstick. His beloved broom laid in three pieces on the ground, a spread of splinters surrounding the object like a halo. The tip of the broom rolled across the road and right to Sportacus’s spot. He picked up the piece with shaking hands as he stared at his broom in shock.  
His broom, the one thing that’d allowed him to travel as far as he did, was now gone.  
He might’ve taken more time to lament the loss of his transport, had it not been for the still present shouting and nasty laughter of Mr. Ehrman, who’d witnessed the witch’s crash.

Stumbling to his feet, Sportacus hastily gathered the remnants of his broom and sprinted back towards the mayor’s home, his heart growing heavier and his eyes growing waterier with every step.

\--

Circe had been laying on the bed, grooming herself, when Sportacus let the door slam open. He stared at the cat with wide eyes and a fearful gaze. His eyes watered as he looked at his familiar.  
“Circe, I…” he said, his voice sounding strained.  
She stopped mid lick and looked at him attentively.  
Sportacus shakily lifted the pieces of his broom towards his familiar.  
“I-It broke when I tried to fly on it. It wasn’t listening at first. Wouldn’t fly when I needed it to. A-And then, then, I went for a flying start, and I crashed to the ground. I’m fine but…but…” Sportacus said, a tear rolling down his cheek.  
Circe’s eyes widened. She hopped off the bed and trotted towards her witch. She sniffed the broom and stared up at him.  
“Can you…can you still feel its magic core? I tried but…but my magic h-hasn’t…it’s been on the fritz.” Sportacus said with a sad laugh.  
Circe meowed and sniffed the broom more intently.  
Sportacus froze. He looked down in concern at his familiar.  
“Circe? C-Come on, that isn’t funny.” Sportacus said.  
His familiar’s tail twitched back and forth as she cocked her head to the side.  
Sportacus looked defeatedly at his familiar, his heart breaking.  
“Oh gods, I can’t understand you anymore, can I?” he said, sniffling as more tears rolled down his face. He dropped the pieces of his broom and sauntered towards his bed.

Circe, meanwhile, pawed at the broken broom pieces. Her whiskers flashed a brief blue as she searched from the broom’s signature white magic trail. The broom, in response, flashed a dim, white light. Nodding, she walked over and hopped back on the bed. She clambered over to Sportacus and patted his arm. She meowed expectantly.  
“I’m sorry, Circe. I don’t think I…” Sportacus said sadly.  
“Sportacus?” asked Circe.  
Sportacus’s attention shot back to his familiar. “Circe?”  
The cat sighed. “I said I think your broom is going to be okay. It’s still got its magic core intact, so some repair time should be enough to – OMPH!”  
Circe was interrupted as Sportacus pulled her into a tight hug. He buried his face into her pitch-black fur as more tears rolled down his face. Circe stuck out her tongue and gagged slightly.  
“Sportacus…need to…breathe…” she gasped out.  
Sportacus let go of her apologetically. He wiped away some tears with the back of his hand.  
Circe looked at her witch worriedly.  
“I’m guessing you’ve been having a rough day?”  
“You could say that.” Sportacus said with a laugh.  
Circe bit her bottom lip. “Well, I’m not much for hugs but,” she said, jumping into his lap. “if you promise not to squeeze me again, you can give me a hug.”  
Sportacus nodded and pulled her into a far gentler hug. He petted her head, and Circe complied with a steady stream of low purrs.   
“You must’ve had the second worst day in history if you’re like this.” Circe said with an uneasy laugh.  
“Pretty close to that I’d say.” Sportacus said, sniffling as he rubbed Circe’s head.  
“Care to share a little?”  
Sportacus paused. “Well, I think…I think my magic is fading.”  
“What?” asked Circe in alarm, turning her head towards her witch.  
Sportacus gave a solemn nod. “Ever since I got back from the forest, my magic’s been more and more fickle. At first, it was just challenges with a few spells, but I could cast them. Today though, I…” he said with a sigh. “…I got attacked by Mr. Ehrman.”  
“Oh lovely.” Circe said with a frown.  
“I tried to disarm him with a levitation spell, but all I got was – “Sportacus said, extending his hand and whispering the levitation spell. A few lame sparks trickled from his fingertips. “this.”  
Circe frowned and stared down his hand.  
“Do you know what’s going on?” Sportacus asked.  
“A hint.” Circe said. “You remember when I told you about ancient magic?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, there’s a reason that it’s the oldest magic in the world: it forms the basis of all magic. To properly cast spells and operate enchanted objects, you need to have your internal in line with your physical.” She explained. “Like gesture magic, too much conflict on a physical, mental, or emotional plane will wreak havoc on your magic source.”  
Sportacus’s eyes drifted down to his hands. He twiddled his fingers, and searched for the magic flowing through his veins. It still laid there, coursing through his blood, but it did seem muffled. No wonder his spells were fizzling.  
“So, that just leaves one question, Sportacus.” Circe said, looking at her witch seriously. “What’s on your mind? And this time, don’t say what you think is the right answer, or the noble answer. Just say exactly what you’re feeling.”

Sportacus stared at his familiar, partly frozen. He opened his mouth, and nearly the same answer he gave to all of his friends and colleagues spilled out, almost like a routine. But he stopped, and closed his mouth. He shuddered, and more tears fell, staining his uniform.  
“I guess…I guess I’m…” He started, sniffling and letting his tears flow freely. “…I’m still not okay with what happened in the woods.”  
Circe nodded. “Anything in particular that’s bothering you?”  
“The whole thing, but mostly…mostly what happened with Robbie.” He answered quietly.  
“As I thought.” Circe said.  
“It did hurt. It hurt to see him look at me with such _hatred_.” Sportacus said with a sniff. “It still hurts to think about it. And I do understand why he’d hate me, after all that happened, but it still hurts because I don’t know what to do about it.”  
Circe nudged her witch’s hand. “I’m afraid there’s not much to do. Time’s all that will help.”  
“I know.” Sportacus said, his voice half-choked. “And I’ve tried but…but I haven’t given him time. I keep visiting his house. I know it’s not helping either of us but I…I still do.”  
“Does he answer?” Circe asked.  
Sportacus shook his head. He stopped, and more tears fell as he finally said, “I…I think that I know why I keep visiting his house.”  
“Oh?”  
Sportacus nodded. “I’ve always wanted to help people, and I’ve always been good at solving problems. So, when I can’t do something to help Robbie, I feel…helpless. I want to help him feel better, but I know I can’t.”  
“But that’s not just it.” He continued. He gave a sad laugh. “I think, and I don’t know why, but perhaps part of me hopes that by mending the bridge now that there’s still a…a chance. For us to be…” Sportacus said, his voice dropping to a whisper.  
“Together?” Circe completed.  
Sportacus gave her a sad smile.  
“It’s so selfish, I know. But I think some part of me will always feel that way about him. And while I’ll be overjoyed if we can somehow still be friends, if that possibility was gone forever...” Sportacus said, stopping as more tears rolled down his cheeks. He gave a shuddered laugh, and hastily wiped away the tears. “Gods, I sound so awful. Why…I should be fine. His friendship is more than enough, and I just want us to be able to talk again.”  
Circe sighed. “Because you’re in love, Sportadoofus.”  
Sportacus laughed. “I thought love was supposed to be more noble than this.”  
“In storybooks, maybe. But love’s still an emotion, so it’s not logical.” Circe said. She laid a paw on his arm. “I think, you know, I said Mr. Rotten still needs time. But I think _you_ need some time too. Not just to settle out what happened with the evil trees and that crap, but to…well accept the possibility that being together with him is not in the cards.”  
Sportacus sniffled.  
“Not saying it’s going to be easy, but you’ll have to try. For the sake of your friendship with him.” Circe said. She looked at him with patient eyes. “Does that sound good?”  
Sportacus looked down at his lap, his eyes moving towards his pocket. His crystal briefly glowed a dim blue, then purple, then nothing.  
Sighing, he nodded.  
“I…I think you’re right. I guess I’ll…I’ll stop trying to talk to see him for a while. At least until I can figure out this whole love thing.” Sportacus said.  
“Take all the time you need.” Circe urged.

Sportacus looked at his familiar and gave her a weak smile. He hugged her gently.  
“Thank you for understanding, and being there for me, Circe.” He said quietly.  
“Hey, someone needs to look out for you, you doof.” Circe said teasingly. She looked at him. “Are you feeling a bit better?”  
“A bit. I’m still a mess.” Sportacus confessed with a laugh. He wiped away the drying tears and some mucus from his face.  
“Obviously. Go wash yourself up. You’re a gross mess of mucus.” Circe said, sticking out her tongue.

Sportacus got up and grabbed his washcloth, feeling the wave of emotions slowly pass as he walked towards the bathroom. He felt good, finally having admitted his feelings, and having a solid game plan to hopefully progress towards a solid and stable friendship with Robbie. It will take some time, but Sportacus was okay with that. He knew eventually his feelings would fade, and perhaps then things could go back to normal between them.

Though, he would probably feel more confident about that idea, if it weren’t for the heaviness that still lingered in his heart. A vague feeling that something was still off.

As he splashed his face with cool water, he decided to chalk up the feelings to leftover weepy urges.

\--

The last few days were a blur for Robbie.

He pushed aside another few empty bottles as he cleared his desk. He threw away the bottles and several crumpled notes he’d written into an overflowing trash bin. He sighed wearily and slumped back down onto the desk, staring at the bright yellow sticky note that sat in front of him.  
It was terribly crumpled, with creases and wrinkles born into the surface like scars, with the untouched surface hastily smoothed out. The handwriting was near illegible at this point, but Robbie still knew what the message said.  
He glared at it.  
Angrily, he took the note back into his hands and crumpled it once more into a paper ball. He chucked it far across the room, the paper ball bouncing behind the radiator.  
He stumbled as he got up, glaring continuously at the spot where the note had landed as he tripped back into the kitchen. Scouring his counters, he picked out a full bottle and pried it open. As he took a long gulp, his gaze softened. He still stared at the paper ball.  
Setting down his bottle, he moved ever so not gracefully to the radiator and fished out the crumpled paper. Almost apologetically, he smoothed it out on his desk. He sighed once he saw how mangled the note had grown. The comic strip attached was barely legible at this point, and the dog with pants looked more like a Lovecraftian monstrosity due to all the crumpling and re-smoothing.  
He placed the note back on the desk and sat down after grabbing his bottle. He took a long swig, allowing the alcohol to settle again in his stomach before he stared back down at the desk’s contents. He fished around the papers until he found what he was looking for: the bracelet.  
He spun it around in his hand, and looked at it with regret. Clasping his fingers down over the trinket, his eyes drifted back to the wall.  
He hummed a song to himself.  
_But traditions I can trace against the child in your face  
Won’t escape my attention  
…  
Something happens and I’m head over heels_

He fell silent.  
Haninn flew in and crowed at him, cocking its head at the faerie with curiosity.  
He glanced up at the bird passively.  
The notes had stopped coming, and it’d been some time since he’d heard Sportacus on his stoop.  
…  
Robbie wanted to do, or say, something.  
But what? That’s what escaped him.  
Two things appeared. One he wanted. One he knew conformed to what he knew.  
Both were terrifying choices. And he wasn’t sure if he could solidly choose one yet.  
…  
He took another swig from his bottle, feeling his mind grow fuzzier.  
“ _There’s always tomorrow_.” He thought to himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope it was fairly decent. I had some unease when writing it, mostly because I wasn't sure if it was good or not. Either way, I figured it provided a little levity as well as a short break for some more, much more major plot developments that'll be occurring in the next chapter. I know there wasn't a ton happening with this one, but hopefully it was still enjoyable :)
> 
> That said, I'm unfortunately heading towards an extremely busy point in my life. I will still be working on this story, and I'll try to make sure the next chapter is up for next week, but I can't make any promises. Thank you for your patience, and don't worry I won't ever give up on this story!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	17. From Shadows to the Sun

Time had not been kind to her guilt or her train of thought.

Trixie had spent a few days holed up in her home, rarely leaving the farm, almost exclusively remaining in her room. It wasn’t a preferred situation, but for Trixie, leaving was simply not an option. Not when the evidence of what she’d done remained scattered across the town, manifesting in discarded pieces of burnt scrap and broken windows. Not after she’d seen the uneasy looks of the townsfolk as they pass by the burned and damaged park, and how they whispered about the supposed nasty personality of whomever had destroyed Pixel’s engine, knowing that those words were unintentionally pointed at her.   
She buried her face deeper into her pillow, breathing in its musty and old scent. She sniffled, and a few more tears dotted the case.  
She had put forth a sincere effort, to try and confess to what had happened to Officer Obtuse. Or her friends. Or _anybody_.  
But she couldn’t.  
Their angered and monstrous faces filled her mind each time she tried to get up and leave, their shrieking and angry voices piercing her ears and reminding her of the horrible deed she’d done, even though not only did she already know, but even her sleep hadn’t let her forget the terrible accident.  
Her dreams, of course, were particularly cruel, playing a far worse version of what happened to convince her that that was the real reality. More screaming, blood, shadowed people that grew tall as skyscrapers with clawed hands reaching and pointing towards her as she shrunk into the ground.  
She shivered, and tried to shoo away the memories of those nightmares in vain.  
The only way to make them go away, she knew, was to tell someone she’s at fault for the explosion. But the possible reality seemed far worse to her or, the worst-case scenario, seemed too much of a reality.

And then there was her.

That was the one thing she was certain of still. Confessing meant losing Stephanie as both a friend and someone she could potentially hold hands with and get milkshakes with.  
And while she knew it was a fair trade off, a way for the karma within her to be righted once and for all, the prospect still sat like a jagged stone in her heart.  
She slipped a hand into her pocket and fished around, before she remembered:  
The letter was gone, most likely dissolved or blown away from the fields of LazyTown.  
She gave a sad chuckle.  
At least Stephanie would just remain unaware of how she felt. A small consolation, she supposed.  
There was still the problem of what to do, however.  
She looked up, and the first thing she saw as she lifted her head was her backpack.

Backpack.  
An idea popped into her mind.  
She got up from her bed and crossed over towards her backpack, picking it off the floor.  
She sniffled, and furrowed her brow.  
It would just be a step up from what she did the other day.  
It’d be running from this problem on a bigger scale.  
She wouldn’t have to just hide away from her problems. She could start over again somewhere else. Seemed simple enough.  
Of course, that meant permanently leaving LazyTown behind along with all her friends and her father. She’d never see the orange groves in bloom ever again in the spring. She’d never be asked to help out with the harvest again. Never pull pranks with Stingy and Ziggy again.  
Anything that composed what she knew and felt familiar with her current life would vanish in a puff of smoke, replaced with a wide road and a lifetime of uncertainty.  
She bit her lip, and lowered her backpack momentarily.  
That prospect seemed just as scary as the other one.  
…But then again, this prospect at least gave the chance for a new start.  
And this current plague upon her conscience and her mind would be gone for good.  
Perhaps she could even sleep again without nightmares.  
Frowning, she gave a decisive nod.

Unzipping her pack, she threw it on her bed and immediately went to digging through her drawers and closet. She pulled out a few shirts and a few pairs of pants and tossed them haphazardly onto her bed. She grabbed socks, underwear, and an extra pair of shoes, as well as a thicker jacket for colder days. Returning to her bed, she stuffed the clothing into the backpack before leaving to gather her toothbrush and extra hair ties. She emptied out her piggy bank and packed the five dollars into a side pouch. Zipping up her bag, she threw it over her shoulder and stormed towards the door.  
She paused, and looked back at her room one more time.  
Her eyes fell upon a small photo that sat on her desk.  
Slowly, she walked back towards her well worn and dented desk. She picked up the photo and rubbed a thumb against its glass.  
Picture was her father, sans his scraggly beard, who had his arm wrapped lovingly around a woman with raven hair like hers, who smiled with a beamingly wide smile. Between the two sat a very young Trixie, showing a pumpkin smile all the while grasping a tiny, stuffed lion.  
She thought for a moment, before she stuffed the photo between two shirts in her pack.  
After throwing her backpack back on, she left her room quietly, closing the door behind her carefully.

She crept towards the stairs and clung to the railing, peering down to the floor below. Her eyes scanned the room, locking upon a thin sliver of light that seemed to come from the living room. She cursed her luck under her breath; that light most likely meant her father was home and seated right near the front door. She’d just have to use the back door then.  
Her father. Would he miss her when she’s gone?  
For a moment, she felt hesitant. She remembered the last time her father cried, after the passing of her mother, and the memory did tug at her for a minute. Would he cry like that once he found her missing?  
Then, she remembered their last conversation.  
“ _You can’t know something like that. You’re only nine, for goodness sake! This could just be a phase._ ”  
She frowned, and her hand formed a fist.  
No, he probably wouldn’t miss her. Not if he couldn’t accept something like that.  
Carefully, she tiptoed down the stairs, laying each step down carefully as to not accidentally cause the boards to creak. There were some perks that came with living in the old, rickety farmhouse (hiding places was in her top ten). But there were plenty of bad things too. Creaky and squeaky steps were definitely one of them and, while it didn’t initially bother her too much, Trixie considered moving them into her top five, if only because of this day alone.  
At an excruciatingly slow pace, she snuck down the stairs, nearly holding her breath with each step as she fearfully waited to hear if any of the steps would creak and give away her presence. If a step gave even the slight inkling of a noise, she’d recoil and slip past it on the railing instead. She’d slip all the way down, but she’d never figured out the landing part at the end, and the last thing she needed was another bloody nose.  
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she’d reached the bottom floor. She silently gave a sigh of relief as she paused, waiting for the sound of her father’s boots clunking against the floorboards, signaling the end of her flight.  
Nothing.  
Even when she could see the tips of her father’s hair in the living room, he didn’t move or make any sign that he’d heard her.  
She turned on her heel quietly, and began creeping back away from her father and towards the kitchen. She slid on the slick, linoleum surface, being careful not to bump the chairs and counters as she made her graceful escape. She careened around the corner, pulling herself to a near noisy stop by gripping the wall’s corner. Cringing, she paused again. Still nothing.  
With a sigh, she snuck towards the back door, her hands ghosting across the surface of the rusty, bronze door knob. Gripping the handle, she prepared to turn it and open her path to freedom, when –

“Trixie? Is that you?”

Busted.

“Can you come over here for a second, please?”  
Trixie grimaced, and looked back with a mixture of frustration and panic.  
“C-Can it wait? I’m busy. I’m, uh, heading out to hang with my friends.” She fibbed.  
“It’ll just take a few minutes, Trixie. I’m sure your friends can wait.” Her father responded, his voice unusually calm and steady. “Come meet me in the living room.”  
Trixie’s shoulders sunk, and she reluctantly let go of the door knob.  
With a walk usually reserved for prisoners being trekked towards death row, she dragged her feet across the floor, using most of her energy to keep her head up and not sulk. This was it, her father must know that she had something to do with the festival. This was probably the part where he grounds her for life, or forbids her from seeing any of her friends ever again. This is the part where he’ll parade her around town, decreeing what a terrible daughter she was and how everyone should hate her. This is the part where all her worst fears come through.  
In hindsight, this’ll probably seem a bit dramatic, she figured, but it was what she legitimately felt she deserved. The guilt had been eating at her enough to make her feel that way.  
As she drew near the living room, the yellow incandescent light staining the room a sickly golden color, she gulped down a thick breath. Her father didn’t move in his chair, not even to look at her as she approached. Ice formed in her chest.  
“Y-Yes, dad?” she asked nervously.  
“Come over here.” Jackson said, waving her over gently.  
She quirked an eyebrow. From the tone of his voice he didn’t _seem_ angry. Then again, she’d heard of some parents who convey red-hot rage with a cool and silent tone, and how that was nearly always ten times worse than a shouting match. Suddenly she didn’t feel comforted at all by his calm and cool demeanor.  
As she crossed over towards the front of the armchair, she slowed to a stop as she finally got a look at her father.

Much to her surprise, he didn’t look angry or disappointed. Quite the opposite, really. His eyes were directed at her, but didn’t hold even the slightest smidge of anger or rage. No, if Trixie were to guess what they conveyed, they almost looked apologetic. Her father sat in the chair casually, giving off a soft and approachable air. Almost meek in a way. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, and he almost looked tired and like his usual, daily guard had worn down to expose his barest self. The soft, empathetic human self.  
He was still dressed in his dingy overalls and boots, but there was a small addition that sat tied onto one of his overall straps.  
A single strip of shiny, rainbow ribbon.  
Trixie furrowed her brow at her father.  
“What’s going on, dad?” she asked.  
Jackson then patted his thigh slowly.  
“Come, sit.” He beckoned.  
Trixie paused, then warily walked over and sat herself on her father’s lap. She felt a little awkward doing so; she hadn’t sat in her father’s lap since she was very little.  
She stayed quiet as her father shifted forward and looked at her in the eyes. Trixie could’ve even sworn that she saw his eyes glitter with tears.  
“I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something.” He said quietly.  
Trixie gave a curt nod. “Well, about what?”  
Jackson sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes as he gathered himself, before opening them and speaking once more.  
“I feel I should, well, I should start by telling you something. About when I was your age and going to school.” Jackson said.  
Trixie looked at her father with a perplexed expression, but nonetheless remained quiet.  
“See, I was about your age when I found out that…you know, being gay, was a thing. I remember my teacher, Mr. Sanderson, telling us about it.”

“He went on and on about how ‘the gays’ were deviants, about how their way of living was considered abnormal at best and slanderous at worse. He said that gay people were born wrong or were choosing to live lives that stood against family and what was right. He also told us to never associate with someone who identified as gay, and if we found out a classmate was gay, to report them to the principal immediately.”  
Trixie’s eyes drifted to her lap and clenched a fist around some of her pant fabric.  
“And that’s what we were taught. It’s what everyone knew, including my parents and my friend’s parents. It seemed like simple fact at the time. The behavior of…of ‘the gays’ did seem odd and wrong, because that’s what everyone else believed. Because of that, most people who were…who were ‘out’, were run out of our communities.” He said. He paused, then sighed sadly. “It’s what seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”  
“Why are you telling me this?” asked Trixie coldly.  
Jackson looked at her with a sad look.  
“I tell you this to give an explanation as to why I reacted the way I did when I saw your letter. When I read it, I was reminded by those same things I heard. I was terrified, absolutely terrified that that would mean everyone in town would do the same thing to you if they found out. And I would never, _never_ want that to happen to you.” He said, his voice growing choked with tears.  
Trixie looked at her father silently.  
Jackson gave a sad laugh, before he continued.  
“I guess that’s the problem when you work a solitary job and don’t take much time to learn about the outside world. Your facts grow outdated, even offensive, with the times. Not a bad thing at all, they just need fixing.” He said. He looked at his daughter once more. “I tell you all of this not to excuse how I acted, but to tell you why I acted the way I did. I know it excuses nothing, but that’s why I want to say: I’m sorry.”  
He smiled.  
“You’re my little girl, and I just want you to live the best life you can, because that’s what you deserve. One filled with friends and loved ones, not pain and hatred. When I found your letter, I feared that that’s what would happen. That everything…well, you know. But then, well, I learned better. The library has these great books on the subject, and I talked to people like Sportacus and Evie Hyperbyte. It made me realize that something I thought would only guarantee you misery and pain is much more accepted nowadays.”  
Jackson stopped, and looked his daughter in the eyes.  
Trixie turned away, crossing her arms.  
Jackson gave a single nod, then said,  
“It’s okay if you don’t forgive me. I don’t think I’d forgive me either, not after what happened.” He admitted. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder as he said, “But, whatever happens, I just want you to know that I want to be there for you. And that, no matter who you fall in love with, that I love you. No “ifs”, “ands”, or “buts”. You’ll always be my daughter, and I love you just the way you are. And I want to learn with you, if you’ll let me. I have a lot still to relearn and unlearn, but I want to do it with you if this is important to you.”

Trixie’s body untensed. Slowly, she turned back to her father.  
“You mean all that?” she asked softly, her voice sounding with slight awe.  
Jackson gave half-smile, then tapped his chest.  
“You have my word as a farmer and your father. No matter what you feel is you, and no matter what happens, I want to be there for you because I love you.”  
Trixie felt something run down her cheek. She lifted a hand and brushed away a tear. Before she could stop herself, she could feel a relieved smile cross her face. Her heavy and frozen heart felt just a bit lighter, and she found herself hugging her father and burrowing her face into his shoulder. She sighed at the comfort as her father hugged her back. She’d forgotten, in the midst of life and the many things that’d plagued their family, how much she loved her father’s hugs.  
“I love you, dad. And I forgive you.” She said, her voice muffled by his shirt.  
Jackson kissed the back of her head, and gave her a firm squeeze.  
Trixie pulled away and brushed a few more tears from her eyes. She laughed a tired laugh.  
“You know, I was wondering about the rainbow ribbon. Didn’t think it was your style.” She said, laughing.  
Jackson poked at his ribbon. “It isn’t, but I just think of it as being like a tasteful version of those bumper stickers those ritzy prep school families have on their cars. Just shows how proud of you I am.”  
Trixie stuck out her tongue. “You’re so cheesy.”  
“And _you_ are bad at taking a compliment.” Jackson said with a smile as he hugged his daughter again. “Now, how about we go get some ice cream to celebrate? I’m feeling like a scoop of peach swirl right now.”

The tension returned to Trixie’s body as her face grew pale. She then remembered exactly why she’d gone downstairs in the first place. This conversation with her father was nice, therapeutic even, but there was still that one large, lingering problem that hung around her head like a spiked halo.  
Jackson quickly picked up on his daughter’s apprehension.  
“Or, maybe not ice cream? We could get a pie instead.” He suggested with an air of humor.  
Trixie sighed and shook her head.  
“That’s not it, dad. I…I need to tell you something.”  
Jackson’s eyes widened, but nonetheless he remained quiet and just sat back in his chair again.  
Trixie looked at her father, the tears spilling down her face once again.  
“I’m so, so sorry. The explosion, the one that destroyed the festival. It was all _my_ fault. I-I didn’t mean for it to happen. W-We…I was just pulling a prank that went too far. And I feel absolutely _awful_ , and I know what I need to do but I’m _scared_ and…and…” She said, her voice descending into an emotional blubbering, her speech interrupted with sniffles and hiccups.  
Jackson, initially, said nothing and did nothing. However, after a minute passed, he leaned forward and hugged his daughter, pulling her back against his chest.  
Trixie let out a choked sob and trembled against her father.  
“W-Why…” She began to say.  
“Shh.” Jackson hushed her, as he gently stroked the back of her head.  
Trixie sniffled and continued to let the emotions run through her, culminating in cascades of tearful and ugly sobbing that stained her father’s overalls and shirt.  
“Now listen carefully, Trixie.” He said in a calm voice. “What you did was definitely wrong. Not just wrong, but dangerous. You’re very lucky no one was seriously hurt or, worse, killed. You’re also lucky that there wasn’t any serious damage caused either.”  
“I know.” Trixie sobbed.  
Jackson nodded. “You know this, and you said you know what to do. And if you’re worried about what will happen afterwards, remember what I just told you.” He pulled away and looked his daughter in the eyes. “I still love you, and always will. I may be disappointed, even a bit angry. But I’ll still be there for you and support you. As long as you pay your dues.”  
Trixie wiped away her tears with her shirt sleeve and nodded.  
“Now, what are you going to do?” asked Jackson.  
“I-I’m gonna go find Obtuse a-and tell him I did it.” She said softly.  
Jackson ruffled her hair and gave a slight nod.  
“’Atta girl.” He noted with a small smile.  
“I-I know I need to do that, but I’m s-still s-scared.” Trixie admitted.  
“It ain’t easy admitting when you’ve done something wrong. Especially something that affected so many people.” Jackson noted. “But, let me assure you, things’ll be a lot better for both you and everyone else once this gets settled. No matter what consequences lay around the corner, it’ll be best if you say something.”  
Trixie nodded.  
“You gonna go do that?”  
“Yeah.” She responded quietly.  
“Good.” Jackson said, before lifting her off his lap.

Trixie quickly ran to the bathroom and washed the tears and mucus from her face, hoping to create some semblance of presentability. As she walked towards the front door and opened it, she gave one last look to her father.  
“It’ll be okay, Trixie. Go ahead, and remember that I love you.” Jackson said with a sad smile.  
Trixie gave a weak smile back, before she turned and walked out the door.

\--

The walk towards the town center, if Trixie were to describe it, would compare it to the walk of a dead man towards his execution. The town itself seemed darker and more severe than usual, with darker shadows and windows that glowed almost a little too brightly. It was all very menacing, and it left Trixie feeling very sick and uneasy. She gulped down a thick breath and continued forward, keeping her eyes averted from the buildings around her.  
She picked up the pace as she made a beeline for the town center. She knew the officer usually patrolled around the government building. Plus, it held the advantage of being a bit more distant from the main bustling center of the town itself. Perhaps that seems odd, but maybe the man who built LazyTown figured that the rather dark business of politics shouldn’t cast a shadow onto areas of fun and commerce.  
She approached, and soon the bright field of sunlight was sliced through by a shadow deep and absolute. Trixie’s eyes trailed up to the owner of the shadow. Officer Obtuse stood tall, his eyes directed forward and never wavering, his hands crossed behind him at attention.  
Trixie gulped. This was it.  
With a slow pace, she stepped carefully towards the stern policeman, and as soon as she’d drawn close enough, she gently tapped his hand.  
The officer tensed only briefly before turning his head down towards the young girl. He looked at her with a slight smile, and a calm expression.  
“Why, good afternoon, Ms. Troubleby. Is there something troubling you?” he asked.  
Trixie froze, her face going white. She could hear her heart beat in her ears, and a cold sweat begin to form on her palms. She had to fight every instinct she had to flee in order to just stand in front of the policeman. Finally, she gulped down a breath, and said,  
“There is. Officer Obtuse I…I’m the one who blew up Pixel’s engine. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” She said, her voice quivering by the end.  
The officer only gave a slight nod. He gently placed a hand behind her shoulder.  
“Very well. Follow me, Ms. Troubleby. We should speak with Mayor Meanswell at once.” He said gently.  
Trixie only nodded and, without fuss, let herself be led towards the town hall.

\--

“Well, Trixie Troubleby, I’ve deliberated for a while with Officer Obtuse, and I believe we’ve come to a suitable punishment. Seeing that you are so young and are considered, by our country, too young to be sentenced towards any lasting punishment, your sentence falls under the minor code.” Mayor Meanswell explained, his voice holding more authority than usual.  
“Also, taking into consideration your usual personal standing, we believe that the act you committed at the festival was ‘out of character’ and thus should not be considered as an act that showcases your character. Because of this, we’ve reduced your sentence to the lowest point we can without protesting against the current standard.”  
Trixie stood still as a board.  
“As part of your punishment, you’ve been sentenced to five months stay at the juvenile detention center in Mayhem Town, which will be suspended until you complete your mandatory community service hours, which will comprise of cleaning up the leftovers of the explosion around town. We presume it’ll take a few days to clean up the debris. Afterwards, we will grant you a week to settle your affairs before you’re transferred to the juvenile detention center. Are there any questions?”  
Trixie shook her head.  
Mayor Meanswell sighed tiredly. “Then I believe our hearing is done. Officer Obtuse, please escort Miss Troubleby to the cleaning station. We should get the town cleaned up as soon as possible.” He said, almost looking apologetically at the young girl.

Officer Obtuse led Trixie outside, passing from the almost excessively air-conditioned town hall immediately back into the warm outside air. Trixie felt numb at the moment as she processed her rather impromptu hearing.  
She also pondered, briefly, how she’d break this news to her father.  
Sure, he said he’d love her and support her regardless, but it was still a lot to take.  
Definitely, to her, it was a lot to take.  
The policeman led her over to a large wooden crate filled with various gardening and cleaning supplies from push brooms to wheelbarrows. Three pairs of thick, sturdy gloves hung from its side alongside several dozen black trash bags. And sitting near all of these supplies, sitting near uncomfortably still, were her two friends.  
As soon as they heard the two pairs of footsteps, they both turned towards them.  
Ziggy gave her a sheepish look.  
Stingy looked more surprised than anything else to see her there.  
Ushering her towards her friends, Officer Obtuse cleared his throat and picked up a push broom.  
“Alright you three, to make up for all the mess you’ve caused, you’ve been sentenced to community service. Part of that will include sweeping up the debris and disposing of it properly. Here are some heavy-duty gloves. Do NOT handle any pieces of scrap metal without wearing the gloves. After you finish cleaning up debris, we’ll move you three over to the park to help with grass re-seeding and replacing the destroyed flower beds.” Officer Obtuse explained.  
“A-Are you gonna keep us here all night?” asked Ziggy nervously. “Because my momma needs me in bed by 8.”  
Officer Obtuse shook his head. “We would never do that, Mr. Sæti. We will, however, have you work until dinner time today. You’ll get breaks for lunch and bathroom needs throughout the days too. You’ll also be expected to report to town hall by 9 am, if you’re wondering when you need to be awake.”  
The kids looked at each other uneasily.  
“Well, get going. You’ve got a lot to clean, and it won’t start itself.” Officer Obtuse said, his voice conveying authority, yet never teetering towards a rude or harsh tone.

The three kids threw on their gloves and sifted through the supplies. Stingy and Ziggy elected to grab the push brooms while Trixie lugged around the wheelbarrow. The three moved steadily along towards the first line of shops, where several sharp and jagged pieces of metal laid under their windows.  
“Can’t believe they want us to clean the entire town.” Stingy said, scrunching his nose at the pieces of shrapnel.  
“It’s only fair. I did almost hurt a lot of people and destroyed the park.” Trixie noted.  
Ziggy looked at her curiously. “Did…they weren’t too hard on you, right?” he asked worriedly.  
Trixie gave him a half-smile and set down the wheelbarrow.  
“Nah, nothing too bad. Just this clean-up stuff and, well, some time away.”  
“They’re sending you to jail??” Ziggy asked in horror.  
“Not exactly. Think of it as…as summer camp, for kids who kind of mess up.” Trixie said, attempting to be reassuring.  
“I’ve never heard of a summer camp with jail cells.” Said Stingy, rolling his eyes.  
Trixie frowned and punched his arm.  
“Quit it, meat head.” She said warningly.  
It was too late, however, as Ziggy stared at Trixie with fearful eyes.  
“Y-You’re not going away forever, right?”  
Trixie smirked. “Only for a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”  
“Promise?” asked Ziggy, sticking out his pinky.  
Trixie chuckled and hooked her pinky with his.  
“Promise.”  
Stingy hmphed.  
Trixie looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.  
“What, you don’t believe me?”  
“No, I do. I’m also not worried, and I know you’ll be back. Won’t even miss you.” He said with a sniff.  
Trixie grinned. “You sure? Your eyes tell another story.”  
Stingy quickly batted away a tear.  
“My eyes are sweaty, that’s all.”  
“Sure, Stingy.” Trixie said with an eye roll.  
She threw a piece of scrap metal into the wheelbarrow.  
“I’m not gonna leave for a little while, so don’t worry. We can hang a bit more before I’m sent away.” She said.  
“I’m gonna miss you.” Ziggy said.  
Trixie gave the boy a quick hug. “I’ll miss you too.”  
Stingy looked away.  
“And you too, Stingy.”  
“Y-You both are so mushy, it’s lame.” Stingy said shakily.

Trixie and Ziggy chuckled as they returned to their work, throwing more scrap metal into the wheelbarrow and carrying it along.

\--

It was grueling work. Scratch that. It was _beyond_ grueling work.

Over the next few hours, the three kids worked hard collecting every piece of scrap and broken wood splinters that they could find scattered in the streets and alleyways of LazyTown. Just over the course of that afternoon, the three filled somewhere around four wheelbarrows full of debris, dumping them carefully into plastic trash bags to be hauled off to some dump. That day in particular was fairly warm, which didn’t help matters. At least two water breaks were needed to make it through the afternoon.  
As the hands on the clocktower clicked forward towards the twelve and five, Trixie stood up straight and wiped the sweat off her brow. She looked towards the clock, framed by the pinks and oranges of the late day sky. The bells of the tower chimed their sweet, yet slightly foreboding tune, their ringing echoing through the increasingly emptying streets.  
“Is it quitting time?” asked Stingy, his voice sounding eager.  
Trixie gave a quick nod.  
Ziggy sighed, and hoisted his push broom up.  
“Man, that was hard work! I’m so excited for my mom’s Tuesday tortilla soup!” He said cheerily.  
“Well _I_ am excited for Margaret’s steak tar-tar for _my_ dinner.” Stingy said with an air of superiority.  
“I don’t know how anyone would want raw steak for dinner.” Ziggy said, sticking out his tongue as he threw his broom into the empty wheelbarrow.  
“Only because you don’t have the refined tastes that _I_ possess.” Stingy explained, lifting his head as he tossed the other broom into the wheelbarrow.  
Trixie lifted the handles and moved the wheelbarrow along as her friends continued to bicker about fine cuisine and what constituted a good meal. All the while, she occasionally looked towards the outskirts of town, towards the fields that surrounded LazyTown. She bit her lip, only occasionally looking back to ensure she didn’t steer the wheelbarrow into a streetlamp or sign.

“Hey, Trixie, are you okay? You look kind of distracted.” Stingy noted.  
Trixie blinked, and looked back at her friends, realizing that they’d arrived at town hall without her knowledge.  
“Oh, um, yeah, I’m good. Just thinking.” She admitted.  
Ziggy smiled and skipped over to his friend.  
“I was just asking if you wanted to join me for dinner! I figured your dad might be, you know, mad so you could hide out at my house!” Ziggy asked.  
Trixie scrunched her nose.  
“Mad? My dad? Wow, you really don’t know him. Nah, he’s cool. Thanks for asking though.”  
Both boys looked at her in disbelief.  
“H-How…?” Stingy began.  
“Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you guys about it later.” Trixie said, slipping her gloves off and throwing them into the crate. Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she strolled passed her friends.  
“Um, Trixie, you know your house is _that_ way, right?” asked Stingy, pointing in the opposite direction.  
Trixie looked at her friend.  
“Course I know that, stupid. I just, uh, wanted to take the long way today. Got some more thinking to do.”  
“Not like you’ve done enough of that.” Muttered Stingy.  
“Watch it.” Warned Trixie.  
“See you tomorrow then!” Ziggy said with a smile, waving to his friend.  
“See ya.” Stingy echoed.

Trixie waved to both of her friends before turning to continue her stroll out of town.  
Passing by darkened street windows and slowly illuminating lamps, Trixie felt her pace pick up as the thick waves of golden and green grasses grew less like a flat scape and more wavy and individual, showing off each rustling strand as she approached. The sound underneath her turned from the slapping of her soles against cement to the crunching of gravel and dirt as she finally reached the outskirts of town.  
She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.  
Perhaps because she’d finally found a moment of calm, everything was settling in.  
Really, it didn’t feel like it at the time, but Trixie then realized just how much of a day she had.  
Between her father’s acceptance of her and her sentencing, she was exhausted.  
Yet, this walk still seemed necessary. If only to have a moment of silence. A moment that seemed more normal and almost cozy in the midst of a crazy and tumultuous time.  
Yes, she’d missed this.  
As she strolled along, she plucked a single, long grass strand from the side of the road and chewed on it mindlessly. She twirled the strand between her teeth, drawing invisible circles in the air as she walked. She kicked aside a few stray rocks and watched as the golden sun glowed against the grasses, staining everything orange and yellow. She listened as the crickets began to chirp, signaling the beginnings of night. Distantly, she heard the songs of the cicadas. The scene was one that soothed her soul and, for a moment, all of her worries and regrets seemed like a distant memory. Like it was part of a dream that she’d woken up from.  
A faint smile crossed her lips.  
The smile, however, was short lived.  
She continued to walk, her pace slowly as she felt something change distinctly in the air. A coolness settled in the warm, summer breeze, but it was not like the chill of autumn. No, it was a chill less physical but more spiritual. An atmosphere, or aura, of something unusual and perhaps unsettling. She slowed as caught sight of something growing closer, jutting from the tall grasses like an ink stain on a piece of paper. They seemed unnatural, far too man-made in contrast to the natural surroundings. But it was a familiar place, and it made Trixie’s heart heavy.  
She slowly approached the spires of wrought iron, their black coating marred with splotches of red from the changing weather, and she ran a hand down their ornate surfaces. The posts creaked at her presence, and the wind continued to chill her senses. She stopped, and peered through the bars at the area they held and restrained away from the living world.  
Like rocks in the mountainside, the tombstones lay numerous and dotted the grassy lawn sporadically, though still in an organized fashion. Some were ornate, carved from glossy marble and decorated with the visages of angels and cherubs. Some were old, with grasses and weeds prying at their bases, threatening to topple them were it not for the sheer weight of the stones. Even more were simple, small markers, lying flat against the earth, their inscriptions unseen to the passerby named Trixie.  
She walked along, running her fingers against the bars, stopping only three feet ahead once she’d finally reached one particular grave site.  
Her family never had much money, so the gravestone was simple. A chunk of stone, shaped nicely in a traditional style, was planted into the ground. It looked a little worse for wear, though with some polishing it would be as good as new. The leftover remnants of a bouquet sat withered and sad against the front of the stone. Above the name was a symbol, a lyre, carved into the top front.  
The inscription on the stone read: “Here lies Georgia Zhou Troubleby. Gifted spirit, loving wife, devoted mother.”

Trixie’s fingers curled around the bars, and she leaned her head against their cool metal.  
She sighed, and could feel the tears build in her eyes.  
She continued to stare at the tombstone, as if it would start a conversation.  
“H-Hey, mom…” she started quietly.  
She waited, once again as if for an answer.  
“I, uh, I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by lately. Things have been a little crazy.” Trixie said with a nervous laugh.  
…  
“I hope you’re…you’re doing well. Wherever you are. I bet there’s lots of parties going on, and plenty of orange marmalade. Bet you’re the one making it too, since no one can beat your recipe.” Trixie said with a grin.  
…  
She sighed, and the grin slipped away.  
“Mom, I…I’m really sorry. I messed up so badly, and I-I didn’t mean to. I’ll admit, I got really angry over something stupid. Part of me did want to make Pixel upset, just because…because…” She said. She closed her eyes, and steadied her beating heart. “…because he got lucky to win someone as special as Pinky. I wasn’t…wasn’t fast enough. And I got jealous, and I didn’t think and…well you know.”  
…  
“I would take it back in a heartbeat if I could. I know things are gonna be fine. Dad’s doing well, by the way. He, uh, is fine with how I feel. You know, all that stuff. And he says he’s going stay with me no matter what. I’m just…just still scared.”  
…  
Trixie sunk against the bars.  
“It’s a lot to take in, you know? It’s all my fault, I know that well enough. It’s just still…dang, didn’t expect the summer to go this way.” She said, sadly chuckling. She looked back up at the grave.  
…  
“I promise, I’ll do better from now on. I’m helping clean up the town. And once I’m back, I’ll make sure I clean up. I’ll be more careful, and I’ll be good. I promise you. I’ll…I’ll make you proud.” Trixie said, sniffling.  
…  
“…I guess at this point you’d say something about knowing I’ll make you proud. You’d hug me at this point too.” Trixie said, looking sadly at the grave. “Wish I could hear it.” She said quietly, a few tears rolling down her cheek.

“Trixie?”  
Immediately, Trixie shot up straight, her eyes darting to the side. Instantly, she caught sight of a figure in pink. She hastily wiped away her tears and stared in disbelief at the observer.  
“P-Pinky?” asked Trixie in shock.  
Stephanie gave a slight smile and took a step forward.  
“I didn’t know you come here too.” She said.  
Trixie sniffled and gave a slight shrug.  
“Just, uh, every so often. You know, pay my mom a visit. Least I could do.”  
Stephanie looked at her sadly.  
“Your mom’s here too?”  
“Yeah, she – “Trixie started, before stopping. “Wait…what do you mean, ‘too’?”  
Stephanie gave her a strained smile.  
“I mean, mine isn’t _here_ here. She’s…well she’s in one like this a few hours away. Can’t go and visit her real grave so I just come here every now and then. I suppose she understands.” Stephanie said, turning her attention back to the graves.  
Trixie blinked, and looked at the girl in disbelief.  
“I, uh, wow. I mean, I didn’t know…” Trixie fumbled.  
Stephanie, never looking away, then asked,  
“How did your mom pass away?”  
Trixie recoiled.  
“I mean…sorry, that sounded really awful didn’t it?” said Stephanie.  
“No no, it’s okay. It happened, like, a really long time ago. When I was four or so.” Trixie explained. “She just, uh, got in a car accident with some friends of hers. A pick-up truck driven by some drunk loser slammed straight into the side my mom was sitting.”  
Stephanie looked at her in horror.  
“I’m so sorry…”  
“Happened a while ago. It’s fine now.” Trixie said, even as her eyes began to water. Clearing her throat, she awkwardly gestured. “How about…well, I shouldn’t say…I mean…”  
“It’s okay.” Stephanie reassured her weakly. With a thin smile, she said, “When I was about six or so, my mom became really ill. We went to the doctors and they said she…she had some genetic disease. I don’t remember what, but they said she only had a few months left.” Her smile faded. “She passed a little before my seventh birthday.”  
Trixie’s face paled.  
“Dang…I-I mean, I’m so sorry about that. That…I can’t imagine how awful that is.”  
“It’s alright. I had time to prepare, so it wasn’t as awful as…well, won’t say it.” Stephanie said awkwardly. “And, you know, just another bad thing to happen in a string of bad things.”  
“A string?” Trixie asked nervously. What else had happened to her friend?  
Stephanie looked at her sadly.  
“You never wondered why I live with my Uncle?” she asked quietly.  
Trixie felt her heart stop.  
“Oh geez, Pinky, I’m so sorry…”  
“He’s not dead, don’t worry about that. But I can never see him again. State says so.” Stephanie said, leaning her head against the iron fence.  
Trixie bit her lip, and her eyes drifted down to the ground.  
“I, uh, I…”  
Stephanie interrupted her with a resigned laugh.  
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I dumped that on you. I don’t usually mention all of that.”  
“No no! It’s okay! You, uh, needed to talk about it so I get it. I’ll listen when you need it.” Trixie said quickly.  
Stephanie gave her a warm smile.  
“Thanks, Trixie.”  
Trixie’s cheeks burned a bright pink.  
“Uh, sure. No problem, Pinky.”

The two stood together in silence, their eyes directed towards the graveyard. Or, at least, Trixie directed her attention that way, if only to hide how her pink her cheeks were at the moment. She figured Stephanie was less bothered, as she could feel her eyes on her.  
“You look really tired. Were you busy today?” asked Stephanie.  
Trixie froze.  
This was the moment, the one she was dreading. She could lie, sure. But she was tired of doing that. She’d have to confess one more time, this time to the one person she didn’t want to.  
“Trixie, are you okay?” asked Stephanie nervously.  
“I’m fine.” Trixie answered quickly. She sighed. “Pinky, I’ve gotta tell you something. I’m tired and dirty because…because I’m the one who blew up Pixel’s engine.”  
Stephanie visibly retracted, her eyes widening.  
“What?”  
“I-I didn’t mean to do it, believe me I didn’t. It was supposed to be…to be a _stupid_ prank! Just shoot some goo at the crowd or something. I never…I didn’t…I could’ve never thought it’d go that badly! I almost hurt lots of people and I made such a mess of things.”  
“Trixie…” Stephanie said quietly.  
Trixie looked at her with a sad look. “I’m really sorry, Stephanie. I know it was stupid, and it made me sick to my stomach to know what almost happened, and what did happen. That’s why I’m messy. I confessed to Officer Obtuse, and I got my sentence. I’m helping clean up the town and, when we’re done, I’m going away for a while.”  
“What?? Where?!” Stephanie exclaimed.  
“You know, Pinky! Where kids that do things like I did go. I’m,” Trixie said, sighing tiredly. “going to a juvenile detention center.”  
Stephanie’s shoulders slumped.  
“Oh…I’m so…”  
“Don’t. I did this to myself, Pinky. I’m just…just sorry that I messed things up. And I’m sorry I hurt your…well, Pixel, the way I did.” Trixie said sadly.  
Stephanie raised an eyebrow.  
“ _My_ Pixel?”  
“I wasn’t thinking. I did it because…well…” Trixie said.  
Why hold back? Won’t make things any worse. Or, maybe it would, but she’d already started.  
“…because I was jealous. At least subconsciously. I was angry and…ugh, I know it doesn’t excuse anything. It doesn’t, and it shouldn’t. I’m so sorry, Stephanie.” Trixie said, pushing her wrist against an eye to stop the tears.  
Stephanie had stopped, her eyes widening as her cheeks darkened.  
“Oh.” She said quietly, processing everything.  
Trixie looked at her with a pained expression. Her eyes darted towards the road, the road she knew would lead to her home. Sniffling, she gave the girl a weak smile.  
“I, um, I’m sorry that…well, just for everything. But I won’t…well I won’t be back for a while, so no worries. And I should get going. My dad probably is wondering where I am. I’m…well at least I told you everything. I’m sorry, Stephanie.” Trixie said, backing away. “And…bye.”

Trixie immediately began to speed away.  
“Trixie.” Stephanie said.  
Trixie continued to walk.  
“Trixie!” Stephanie said more urgently.  
Trixie continued.  
“Trixie, WAIT!” Stephanie nearly yelled.  
Trixie finally stopped, and turned back to the girl with an expression both pained and confused.  
Stephanie shrunk back, before she cleared her throat and stood back up straight.  
“Trixie, I…about everything. I know you did a lot of bad stuff, I know. But…I’m not mad. Not any more at least.” She said. She sighed. “I forgive you.”  
Trixie looked at her with disbelief.  
“How?” she asked quietly.  
Stephanie sighed.  
“Because…I know that you’re good. Yeah, what happened at the festival was bad. REALLY bad. But you obviously felt bad about it if you apologized, and you were honest with me right there. That’s why I forgave you, because I know that that mistake isn’t you.”  
Trixie’s eyes sank down, and she shook her head slowly.  
“T-Thanks, Pinky. That does mean a lot.” She said.  
“And,”  
Trixie paused.  
Stephanie sighed, and her hand went for her purse, digging around its contents. Finally, she pulled out something crumpled and bright pink. A piece of paper.  
Trixie’s eyes widened in shock.  
Stephanie gave her a small, warm smile.  
“I know you have to go home soon, but…maybe you could stay out a little longer? Maybe go to the bakery? I hear Jives fixed the milkshake machine.” Stephanie suggested.  
Trixie looked at her, feeling unable to answer as her heart did gymnastics in her chest.  
All she could eventually eek out was one word,  
“Why?”  
Stephanie chuckled and walked towards the girl.  
Trixie gulped.  
“Maybe because I like you too? I like your pig tails and your clever pranks. True, some go too far. WAY too far. But the less bad ones are pretty funny. And I know you’re sweet, even if you don’t like to act like that.”  
Trixie’s cheeks darkened to bright red.  
“B-But, what about Pixel? I thought you two were…you know…sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g?”  
Stephanie giggled and looked at her with a smirk.  
“What? No way! He and I are just good friends.”  
“T-Then that night, with you two and the fireflies…” Trixie said.  
“We had just been talking about how I felt about you. That’s when I realized I liked you back.” Stephanie said with a smile.  
Trixie first processed her shock, before slapping her forehead with a groan.  
“Man, now I REALLY feel stupid. Got angry over nothing, typical Trixie.” She muttered.  
Stephanie giggled, then gently took Trixie’s hand, holding it carefully.  
Trixie’s cheeks matched her shirt by this point.  
“W-Wait, you sure about this? Even after everything I did?”  
Stephanie smiled, and gently swung the girl’s hand.  
“Of course, I’m sure. Like I said, you’re still a good person, and you’re doing what’s right. And I _know_ , I still like you.” She said, tugging on Trixie’s hand gently. “Now come on, let’s go get those milkshakes! I heard they have chocolate-cherry ones now!”

Trixie could’ve believe what she was hearing. All she could was dumbly nod as she was led away, _hand in hand_ , by the girl she’d fallen so hard for. It took everything within her not to giggle like a mad-man or to cheer towards the heavens.  
She did, however, quickly pinch herself, which Stephanie noticed.  
“What was that for?”  
“Just to make sure I’m not dreaming.” Trixie quickly said.  
Stephanie giggled, then lifted Trixie’s hand to plant a brief butterfly kiss against its top.  
Trixie felt something akin to short-circuiting from the kiss.  
“T-That only makes me think I’m dreaming even more, Pinky.” Trixie admitted.  
Stephanie laughed.  
The two sped along together, a skip in their step as they strolled along towards the town.  
“So, wait, if we’re…well, together, how’s me going away going to work? I can’t visit you when I’m there and I bet you can’t get to Mayhem Town all the way from here on your own.” Trixie wondered.  
Stephanie gave her hand a quick squeeze.  
“I’ll send you letters every day until you get back.” She said.  
Trixie blushed.  
“That’d…yeah, that’d be nice. M-Mushy, but nice.” She said, weakly trying to regain her bravado.  
Stephanie rolled her eyes and laughed.

As they ran towards the bakery, Trixie once again ran through her incredibly busy and emotionally turbulent day. From her father’s talk to her confession to now this, Trixie felt like she could collapse from exhaustion.  
Or at least, that she _should_ feel like that.  
Instead, she was near buzzing with energy.  
Despite everything, things were turning out okay.  
She looked at her friend…well, guess _more_ than friend, and watched her hair bob with every step they took.  
They took.  
Together.  
Trixie let an overjoyed smile cross her face, and she squeezed Stephanie’s hand really quick, earning her a flash of a smile from her pink-haired friend.  
“ _Never thought I’d describe today like this, but I couldn’t have asked for a better day._ ” She thought to herself.

The two soon began to talk again as they skipped towards the bakery, and their laughter and conversations filled the empty streets with joy and an excitement over something this wonderful and new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you all that they'd get a happier ending! Good to get some fluffiness and cathartic resolution for Trixie's storyline, and finally have her and Stephanie get together. Now to work on the resolution for Sportacus and Robbie...
> 
> Also, sorry, the next chapter will take some time because figuring out what the next chapter should be. But I will be working on it!
> 
> Thank you for reading and thanks for your patience!


	18. Raindrops and Stitches

“I’ll be back late. I’ve got an errand to run.” Said Circe.

Sportacus looked up from his work, placing the broken pieces of his broomstick back in his lap.  
“An errand? What kind?” he asked.  
Circe hopped up onto the window sill.  
“A little errand. Nothing big. Just will take me a while.” Circe said nonchalantly.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow and peered around his familiar.  
“You sure it can’t wait? I always thought you hated getting your fur wet.”  
Circe quickly glanced out the window, pausing as she watched the rain drip and tap against the window, and how it pooled on the sidewalk.  
She bit her lip before she turned and responded.  
“I do, but this is an…important errand. It can’t wait.” Circe said. She gave the window a quick tap with her paw, and it swung open. The room was filled with the rhythmic tapping of the cascading rain, and the lovely petrichor smell it brought with it.  
“You’re acting so cryptic. Why not just tell me what you’re up to?” asked Sportacus with a frown.  
“Because, Mr. Nosy, it’s…um…a surprise. A birthday surprise.” Circe lied weakly. She blinked, allowing her magic to course into her whiskers, forming a thin, blue aura around them.  
“No need to keep the window open for me. I’ll let myself back in once I’m done. Laters.” She said quickly, nearly stumbling over her words, before blinking and vanishing in a flash of light, leaving Sportacus staring with his mouth gaped open, stuck ready to ask a question that will never be heard.

Closing his mouth, he breathed a sigh through his nostrils before shaking his head and returning to his patch job. He grabbed the roll of tape from the side of the bed and began carefully winding the adhesive material around two pieces of his broomstick. He pulled it taught, before holding it away from him to review his handiwork. He frowned; not only did it look ugly, but he knew that a magicless patch job would never hold up against even the lightest of breezes. In its current state, the broom looked like it’d fall apart if you just blinked at it.  
He laid the haphazardly fixed broom to his side and drummed his fingers against his thigh, thinking through another way to repair his broomstick.  
He’d already tried wood glue, and only managed to nearly fuse his hand with the wooden handle.  
Bandages clearly weren’t working, judging from how the handle wobbled when he applied even the slightest amount of pressure to the broom.  
And as desperate as he was, bubblegum was definitely out of the question.  
He sat back, supporting himself with the palms of his hands. He glanced about the room, hoping to conjure some other alternative solution, but any brainstorming capability he had seemed to have flown out the window. Probably to go on a rain-soaked errand like his familiar.  
He looked out the open window, and took a minute to listen to the pitter-patter of the rain. A slight smile crossed his face. He did still love the sound of rain; it soothed him and helped calm him down.  
Crawling across his bed, he peered out the window, flinching momentarily as a fat drop of water plopped onto his nose. Brushing his nose dry, he looked out at the town, gazing at the empty streets.   
He glanced down at the street in front of Ms. Busybody’s shop, spotting her windows aglow with light.  
He smiled. Despite the lack of activity in the town, she’d elected to keep her shop open. Probably to sell someone an umbrella or jacket they might need.  
His eyes drifted towards the street corner, when he paused.  
He then remembered that first afternoon he walked with Robbie there. He remembered how tense it had all started, and laughed when he remembered their conversation.  
He remembered how deeply they looked at each other when he’d saved Robbie from face-planting against the pavement.

He frowned and shook his head.  
No need to think about things like that when he had a broom to fix.  
Besides, he’d promised Circe he’d try and keep his thoughts away from the reclusive faerie.  
Crawling back to the edge of his bed, he sat himself upright and twiddled his fingers, staring at them intently.  
Perhaps he could coax enough magic to heal his broom that way. It wouldn’t require an obscene amount or anything; just enough to sew the fibers of the wood back together, allowing the magic at the wood’s core to flow once more through the handle.  
Pursing his lips, Sportacus gave a determined nod before he picked up his broom once more. He laid it in his lap, and gently gripped the handle with both hands. Closing his eyes, he tried to read the broom’s magic energy. He could feel the blood flow from his face once he found the core of the broom, so faint and quiet in comparison to how it used to robustly flow through every inch of its wooden shell. Taking in a breath, he thought of seams and stitches, of bandages and glue, as he urged his magic forth from his body.  
The broom gently rattled, and it gave a small groan of protest.  
“It’s okay. Just let my magic heal you. I’m sorry I didn’t fix you earlier, and I promise to take better care of you from now on.” Sportacus said quietly to it, running one hand up and down the broom’s handle.  
The broom shook violently, and Sportacus could hear a gentle humming vibrate from its center.  
Then a sound, like the pop of a balloon, echoed in his ears.  
And the room fell silent.  
Opening his eyes, Sportacus quickly examined his broom, cautiously removing the bandages with the silent hope that maybe, perhaps, the spell worked, and the popping sound was a sign that the spell had taken.  
He removed the first ream of bandages, and watched as the two pieces of broom fell apart, the smaller part falling to the ground with a clatter, rolling towards the corner.  
Sportacus’s spirits fell, and he gave a tired sigh as he laid the broom to his side.  
He rubbed his temple exasperatedly, closing his eyes as he did.  
Four tries now, and the same result every time.

…

Perhaps he needed a break.  
Sportacus looked up and back out the window. The rain still fell at a quick rate.  
He then looked back at his scarf and rain jacket that hung from the chair.  
As long as he dressed properly, a little walk wouldn’t hurt, right?  
He smiled slightly as he made up his mind.  
He grabbed his jacket, eschewing the scarf, and threw it on as he left his room, leaving the broken broom pieces both on the bed and on the floor.  
Running down the stairs, Sportacus zipped up his jacket, his eyes fixed on the door.  
He was so focused, as a matter of fact, that he didn’t notice the small figure standing just behind the corner, her little eyes peeping out from her hiding spot.  
Stepping off the stairs and onto the floor, Sportacus prepared to turn towards the door when something soft and made of cloth was thrust in his face.  
“Hello, Sportacus!” A squeaky and strangely unnatural voice said.  
Sportacus jumped slightly, startled by the sudden appearance of the fabric creation. The small amount of adrenaline that’d started pumping slowed to a stand still once he heard the sound of giggling.  
“Do you like him, Sportacus? I made him myself!” said Stephanie cheerily, holding up the puppet on her hand.  
Sportacus, finally gathering himself, crouched down to examine Stephanie’s handiwork. It was crude, and possibly a little slipshod in construction. The puppet was made of purple fleece, with two limp arms that flopped by its side made of the same material. For eyes, the puppet had two halves of a ping-pong ball glued onto its head, and it appeared to have a felt tongue sewn into its mouth. Flowing freely from its head was a mess of stringy, blonde hair made of yarn.  
The puppet chuckled.  
“Wow, I must’ve made quite the impression! He’s speechless! I know I’m good, but I didn’t know I was _that_ good.” it boasted to Stephanie.  
Stephanie rolled her eyes and laughed. “You’re so full of yourself, Mr. Fuzzy!”  
Stephanie manipulated the puppet’s hand so it dusted off its chest.  
“It’s not being full of yourself if it’s the truth!” the puppet exclaimed.  
Stephanie giggled, then looked back at Sportacus.  
Sportacus smiled. “He seems very nice, and you did a great job making him! What made you want to make a puppet?”  
“From my activity book!” Stephanie said, pointing to a hardcover book that sat on the coffee table. “It’s activity number 79 in my ‘Rainy Day Activities’ book! I think it’s one of the most fun ones so far!”  
“Does seem like a lot of fun.” Sportacus said.

Stephanie looked at Sportacus curiously, lowering her puppet.  
“Where are you off to?”  
“Just need to get some wood really quick. And I thought I’d go for a walk while I’m at it.” Sportacus said.  
“In this weather??” Stephanie asked in shock.  
Sportacus shrugged as he started towards the door.  
“I’ve got a jacket! I’ll be fine.”  
The witch was stopped as he felt his jacket be tugged backwards. He turned and looked straight into the eyes of the very concerned, and most likely stubborn young girl.  
“It’s a downpour out there, Sportacus. And Uncle said there’s supposed to be thunder and lightning soon.”  
“Well, I’m not flying out there, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.” Sportacus said.  
Stephanie, deciding to switch tactics, instead gave Sportacus the biggest puppy-dog eyes she could muster.  
“Please Sportacus? Can’t your errand just wait a teensy-tiny bit longer? I kind of pulled some felt and fleece out for you, cause I hoped we could make puppets together today.”  
Sportacus bit his lip, looking at the pleading look the girl was giving him. He briefly glanced back at the door, thinking about how he really needed to work on making his new broom. Then he looked back at Stephanie, who was pouting her lip now to emphasize her begging. Sportacus felt his heart break. Dang, he was such a softie. He supposed he’d be fine on foot for a little while longer.  
“Alright, you win, Stephanie. What do I have to do first to make a puppet?” He relented, giving her a half-smile.  
Stephanie dropped the kicked puppy routine and immediately broke into a wide grin. Taking the witch’s hand, she eagerly led him towards the couch where piles of colorful fleece, balls of yarn, and a box full of different buttons and googly eyes sat. A small sewing machine sat on the table, its lights on, signaling how it was on and ready to use.  
Stephanie helped Sportacus go through the piles of colorful fleece, with Sportacus eventually settling on some light blue material with purple yarn for hair. Stephanie helped him with the cutting and construction, showing the witch how to lead the pieces through the machine and how to avoid snags. Over the next hour, Stephanie meticulously demonstrated each step, with Sportacus mainly assisting in the smaller tasks like stuffing the puppet’s arms with cotton and gluing the foam shell in the puppet’s skull so the mouth could be manipulated. Once the puppet’s body was complete, Sportacus fished out a pair of googly eyes and pasted them onto the puppet’s head, adding a ball of fabric for a nose as well. Adding a full head of stringy, purple hair that laid flat against the puppet’s head in a short fashion (Sportacus never was good with scissors), and his puppet was finally done.  
“It looks great, Sportacus!” Stephanie said happily, lifting her own puppet up.  
“Well, looks like you’re pretty new! I’m Mr. Fuzzy. You could call me the leader of Puppet Town!” Mr. Fuzzy said, Stephanie badly hiding her lip movements.  
Sportacus chuckled and lifted his own puppet, moving its head to address Mr. Fuzzy.  
“I am! My name is…is…” Sportacus said, pausing. “…Mr. Grape-head.”  
Stephanie gave Sportacus a look.  
“Really?”  
“I’m, uh, bad with names.” Sportacus said with a laugh.

Stephanie rolled her eyes and chuckled.  
“Well, Mr. Grape-Head, it’s very good to meet you!” Mr. Fuzzy said, extending a floppy hand towards him.  
“Good to meet you too!” Mr. Grape-head replied in a deep voice, shaking the puppet’s hand.  
Stephanie giggled. “I like your voice for him.”  
Sportacus smiled. “Why, thank you. I think it’s a good choice for someone like him.”  
He paused for a moment as he watched Stephanie chat with her puppet.  
“You know, you do seem cheerier than usual. At least, cheerier than you’ve been lately. Feeling better?” Sportacus noted.  
Stephanie smiled at him. “I am. Things have been just going well lately, and I couldn’t be happier.”  
“Oh? Like what?” Sportacus asked curiously.  
Stephanie’s cheeks took on a slight pink color, nearly matching her skirt. Mr. Fuzzy looked at her and shook his head.  
“Ugh, stop being such a blushing baby! If you don’t say something, I will!”  
“Mr. Fuzzy, please - !” Stephanie said in a hushed voice.  
“She’s all a flutter because she’s got a girlfriend!” Mr. Fuzzy said, accompanying his statement with kissing sounds.  
Stephanie smacked her puppet.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened. “Really?? Who is it? When did _that_ happen?”  
Stephanie smiled sheepishly, her cheeks burning red.  
“Just the other day. I’m, well, Trixie is my girlfriend now.” She said, unable to mask her elated and silly grin as she said it.  
Sportacus lit up. “Stephanie, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! I can definitely see why you’re so happy!”  
Stephanie nodded. “Yup! It was really great. I ran into her by accident in the fields. We talked for a while. She was pretty upset at first, but we talked it all out! Once we got everything settled, that’s when we both said we liked each other and got milkshakes together!” She rambled, messing with her puppet’s hair.  
Sportacus smiled. “That’s fantastic, Stephanie. I’m glad it went so well.”  
“Yeah!” Stephanie beamed. “It was great. Talking it out seemed to do the trick! Everything fell into place just like that!”  
Sportacus’s smile wavered.  
“ _Wish it were always that easy._ ” He thought to himself, his smile fading.

Stephanie paused as she noticed Sportacus’s expression change.  
“You doing okay? Is your magic still on the fritz?” asked Stephanie.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“No! I mean, yes. I mean, how did you - “  
“Sportacus, my uncle and Neil told me that you were having problems with your magic. I know already.” She said.  
Sportacus’s face fell.  
“Oh. Well it’s, um, still a work in progress. Why’d you ask?”  
Stephanie shrugged. “I can just tell something’s bothering you. I figured, if anything, it’d be that.”  
Sportacus looked off to the side and sighed.  
“It does bother me, and makes me uneasy that it hasn’t come back at all. I thought I’d sorted out the issue, but it’s still being finicky.”  
“Did you talk to Mr. Rotten? Maybe that’s what’s making it go all weird.”  
Sportacus’s pupils shrunk and his cheeks flushed. He opened his mouth to prepare a question.  
“Before you ask, Jives isn’t good at hiding secrets. Plus I’ve already guessed it for a while.” Stephanie said, holding up a hand.  
Sportacus shut his mouth.  
“So did you?” She asked.  
Sportacus sat back, and ran a hand across his cap.  
“I tried, but he’s not ready. And I understand that.” Sportacus said, giving a weak smile.  
Stephanie looked at her friend with concern.  
“Need to talk about it?”  
He sighed. “To be honest, I think that’s the _last_ thing I need. Right now, I just would like to _not_ thing about him and what happened between us for once. It’s been difficult.” Sportacus said tiredly.  
Stephanie pursed her lips, and looked down at her puppet. She bobbed it around, making it quirk its head at her. A thin smile crossed her face.  
She lifted the puppet up to Sportacus.  
“Hey! If you need a distraction, watch me dance like an idiot!” said Mr. Fuzzy. He began to flail around, his arms flopping in loose circles as Stephanie made him bob and weave in a frantic pattern, humming a small tune.  
Sportacus couldn’t hold back an amused smile and a chuckle.  
“That’s a very good dance, Mr. Fuzzy. You don’t dance like an idiot at all.”  
Mr. Fuzzy stopped and looked at him curiously.  
“What about Grape-Head? Can he dance too?”  
Sportacus looked down at his puppet, weighing it in his hand. Drawing his lips into a thin line, he nodded, then put the puppet back on his hand. Smiling, he lifted Mr. Grape-head.  
“Of course I can dance! Let’s have a dance party!” he made it say.  
Mr. Fuzzy cheered.  
“Alright! I love impromptu dance parties!” he said excitedly.  
Sportacus and Stephanie laughed as they made their puppets bob around, occasionally running into each other with every jolted movement. Felt arms flailed and swung around, and yarn hair flopped about like spaghetti in water. Sportacus smiled a true smile, one that he felt he hadn’t had for a while. Or at least not since the night with Robbie on the broom. And for once, that thought didn’t seem to make him sad. Or at least, not as sad.

Their playtime was interrupted as the front door swung open and slammed against the wall. Both Sportacus and Stephanie sat up, their heads swiveling towards the entryway. Emerging from the wall of rain came a figure cloaked in a bright yellow poncho, water dripping from his hood and nose. He shivered, shaking off the collected rain onto the doormat and floor. The man pulled his hood down, revealing himself to the be the mayor.  
Stephanie grinned.  
“Welcome home, Uncle!” she said cheerily.   
Mayor Meanswell slung his jacket onto the coat rack and smiled.  
“Ah, hello Stephanie! Hope you’re staying nice and dry with all this rain today!”  
Stephanie nodded.  
“I am! Sportacus and I have been playing with puppets!” she said, holding up Mr. Fuzzy.  
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Just wonderful, and good that you’re both staying dry.” Mayor Meanswell said, brushing off his shirt. He walked towards the two. “Sportacus, how are you doing today? A little better, perhaps?”  
“Yeah, I’d say so.” Sportacus said with a thin smile as he pulled off his puppet.  
“That’s fantastic! I guess then it’d be a good time to ask you something?” asked Mayor Meanswell.  
Sportacus looked at him curiously.  
“Well, as you know, the unveiling of the LazyTown biplane is happening in two days.”  
“Two days? I thought it was a week from now!” Stephanie exclaimed.  
“It was!” said the Mayor, standing proudly. “But, work on the plane has been sped up ever since we hired an engineering team from out of town. Pixel and I discussed the construction of the plane and, after the festival, we felt it’d be best to leave the finishing details to a team of experts.”  
“Guess that’d make sense.” Sportacus said quietly.  
“Well, they’re so good that they said they’re ahead of schedule! The plane will be ready to fly in two days!” the Mayor said happily.  
“That’s great, Uncle! I can’t wait to see it!” Stephanie said with a smile.  
“And that’s why I needed to talk to Sportacus.” Mayor Meanswell said, turning to the witch. “You see Sportacus, I was hoping that you’d be by my side to christen the new plane before its maiden voyage. You’ve done so much good for the town, it only seemed appropriate as a way to both commemorate the first flight and as a celebration of your work!” The Mayor said.  
Sportacus, taken aback by this gesture, at first couldn’t answer. He glanced up towards his room, thinking about his still incomplete broom, which reminded him that his magic was still in some sort of limbo. At least, that’s what he figured.  
Eventually he gathered himself enough to smile and say,  
“I would be honored!”  
The Mayor smiled. “Fantastic! Then you’ll be at my side in two days! Oh, this will be quite the celebration! The perfect event to, well, spruce up the town and get everyone’s spirits up after the festival disaster. Oh, I’m so excited!” he said, giving a happy skip.  
Stephanie chuckled. “I’m so happy for you, Uncle! You promise you’ll be careful though, right?”  
The Mayor leaned down and gently ruffled his niece’s hair.  
“I promise, Stephanie, that I will practice as much safety as I can!” he assured her. He then looked at Sportacus. “And with a witch like Sportacus nearby to help in case anything goes wrong, I think we have a safe and fun day guaranteed! Don’t you agree, Sportacus?”  
Sportacus tried to hide his wincing. “Um, yes. I agree, nothing should go wrong.”  
Stephanie’s smile faded.  
The Mayor nodded. “Well, I don’t know about you both, but I think I should get some dinner started. How does pizza sound?”  
Both Sportacus and Stephanie’s faces lit up at the suggestion.  
“Get it with lots of sportscandy!” called Stephanie as Mayor Meanswell walked towards the wall phone.

She looked back at Sportacus as he was messing with his puppet.  
“You sure you’ll be okay to keep an eye on Uncle? With your magic and all…” she said softly.  
“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Stephanie. I’ll just get lots of rest and I bet my magic will be back by then.” Said Sportacus quickly, smiling.  
“As long as you’re sure.” Stephanie said, his tone slightly unconvinced. She lifted her puppet and, trying to distract herself from her doubts, said through him,  
“Hey! Grape-head! You know how to mambo?”  
Sportacus grinned, and lifted his puppet.  
“Sure do! Let’s mambo!”  
The two then started their puppet dance party again. Every now and then, Sportacus would think about the flight day, and make a silent plead towards the spirits that maybe, perhaps, he’d get a break. Perhaps that day he’d finally figure out the ever-present heavy feeling in his chest, or at least get it situated enough to not be a hindrance. Maybe he’d even get his broom built by then.  
“ _I’ll just have to work extra hard these next few days._ ” He thought to himself, as he continued to play with Stephanie.

\--

It had started with the flashing crystal.

Blue and purple.

It _never_ flashed two different colors at once.

No elf crystal behaved like that, as far as Circe knew.

That, combined with Sportacus’s loss of magic and lingering bad feelings, told Circe that there was one place she needed to go, and one person she needed to talk to, if she wanted any hope of ever getting Sportacus back to normal and maybe setting things right.

At least, any hope of _her_ accomplishing anything that might help the two.

Then again, on their own, progress moved at a snail’s pace. It annoyed her to no end.

So, as she stood in front of Robbie’s home, her fur soaked and clinging to her body like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket, she felt in her heart she was doing what made sense.

After all, if the dumb noodle man was really going to ignore Sportacus for the rest of eternity for the reason she thinks he is, there’s no way in hell she was going to let that slide without her trying _something_.

Blinking her eyes, she vanished in a flash of blue light and appeared in Robbie’s entryway. She paused as she took in the surroundings: a dozen or so empty bottles of beer and cider littered the floor and any flat surface area in the small home, leaving a lingering scent of sweet alcohol in the air that irritated her sensitive nose. Fabric laid untouched yet messy on his sewing tables, with various half-started projects hanging off their edges. The home was darkened, the only light being supplied by the outside. She tip-toed around piles of discarded paper and fabric scraps, leaping over a dirty plate or two as she bounded towards the fuzzy orange chair.

She paused, only momentarily, as she noticed Haninn sleeping on a pile of fabric.

She’d be self-indulgent this once; she blinked her eyes and the avian instantly vanished in a puff of smoke.

Letting the bird be confused once he woke up and found himself in Saskatchewan would be her Christmas present for this year, she told herself. And if anyone questioned her, she needed to get rid of the bird to not accidentally wake Robbie. Yeah, that sounded plausible.

Finally, she drew close to the man himself, who was splayed out on the orange chair, contorted in an uncomfortable position that made Circe question how anyone could sleep in such a way, with his arms laying limply over the arms of the chair and his legs spread out in a near split, one over a chair arm and the other planted on the floor. The faerie snored loudly as he shifted in his chair.

Circe took in a breath and sighed, before leaping up and onto the chair. Carefully, walking cautiously as to not wake the man, she crept onto Robbie’s chest, being careful to not let her tail or whiskers tickle his face and wake him. Her paws sunk into his shirt and, finally, she was sitting right in the middle of his chest. Kneading briefly, she curled herself into a little ball and stared at the sleeping man’s face.

“Hope you’re dreaming of something pleasant, despite the surrounding evidence. Because I swear, if you make me fall into dream lava before I get a chance to talk to you, you’re dead.” She noted with a grumble.  
She sucked in a breath, allowing her lungs to expand, as she felt her magic flow freely in her body. It flooded her head, making her feel light and dizzy, her eyes glowing a dim blue color. Exhaling, she let her eyes flutter shut, and the magic crawled from her eyes down through her body, exiting through her paws and drawing a spiral across Robbie’s chest.  
A brief flash of light, and the room fell silent once more as Circe slept gently on Robbie’s chest, her thoughts turned towards the pursuit of the land of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time around to transition to the next big chapter. Sorry about the shortness, I've been really busy lately and haven't had time to write. But I'm gonna try my best to keep the writing at a consistent level, but I can't make any promises.
> 
> BUT, not to build hype too much, but next chapter will give some more answers about Sportacus and Circe. And maybe some surprises too ;)
> 
> In the meantime, thank you for reading!


	19. Echoes of the Past Pt. 1

It all looked just how he remembered it.

Like an image ripped from an old, forgotten photo album, there it sat.

He could smell the aroma of freshly grown flowers, and the sickeningly sweet scents of baked goods and desserts that his neighbors would make wafting in the wind.

He heard the clattering mixture of conversations and nursery rhymes chiming together in a symphony of community, their melody only broken by the occasional ringing of the town’s giant bell.

Fluttering about through the wind, grins plastered on their faces and laughter pouring from their mouths, flew faerie children and adults, all flying without care. Children hovered barely above the rooftops, their paper-thin wings beating through the air. The grown-up faeries soared overhead, with wings like dragonflies, butterflies, and moths. Bursts of magic, all colors of the rainbow, lit up the sky as the slightly older children practiced their spells. A patrol marched past him, their leather armor holding taught against their bodies, and helmets made of bronze gripping their heads. The flag, bearing a field of green and a single branch of wheat, fluttered in the summer breeze.

Yes, it was exactly how he remembered it. It was exactly how it _should_ be.

His court was filled with life, and Robbie could drink it in from his perch on the hillside, the green grass tickling his hands and feet as he gazed upon his old home. He looked to his side as a pair of faerie children, an Unseelie boy and a hybrid faerie girl, sped past, carrying wooden swords and dolls made of sack cloth. A small smile crept on his face. He remembered them both, his old friends and neighbors.

“Your court really was beautiful. Such a lively place.”

Robbie stopped, but he didn’t turn to address the owner of the voice. He continued to stare at his home.

“I know you heard me, noodle man. And I’m not going to let you ignore me.”

Robbie’s back stiffened, and his shoulders visibly tensed.

“What do you want?” He asked bluntly, never looking away.  
Circe walked closer, crossing over in front of the man. She sat herself down in front of him.  
“Something I think we both want, or at least you need. I want to talk.” She said, staring up at him with her bright eyes.  
“Well, I don’t. And I don’t want you here, or anywhere else in my dreams. So, leave.” Robbie said stubbornly.  
Circe frowned at the man and, as if to make her intention clear, she got up only to sit herself back down in the same spot.  
“I’m not leaving until we talk, Noodle Man.” She said sternly.  
“Looks like we’re at an impasse then. Because I’m not talking.” Robbie said.  
“You’re seriously going to be _this_ difficult? I’m not going to interrogate you, I just want to talk.” Circe said frustratedly.  
Robbie finally looked down at the familiar, giving her a hard glare.  
“Why?”  
“You know why!” Circe said, her patience already running thin. She stood to her feet, her fur raising off her back. “You’re the noodle brain who healed Sportacus’s magic by threading your own with it. And maybe it’s just a hunch, but I think you sabotaged his magic source because of it. Don’t know if you did it on purpose or not, but the only way I can help him is if I get some answers from you.”  
“And that will really help you?” Robbie asked with a raised brow.  
“Be better than nothing! Because honestly, I’m running out of ideas, and I need to help him. Now. So, you gonna talk or what?” Circe said exasperatedly.  
Robbie’s eyes fell. He drew his legs closer to his chest, and gently began to rub his arms. He looked away from the cat, choosing instead to focus on the strands of grass surrounding him.

Circe groaned and rolled her eyes. She wandered over back in Robbie’s line of sight.  
“Look, I know you two aren’t talking right now. That’s you guys’ deal, but I at least want to know what’s going on from _your_ perspective. Sportacus has already told me everything that happened in the forest, and what you said and did.”  
Robbie’s eyes briefly widened, and his face paled ever so slightly.  
“But I want to know what’s going on in your noodle brain. I want to know why you personally want nothing to do with my witch, especially given how little everything adds up.” Circe said.  
Robbie didn’t answer. He instead occupied himself with a strand of grass.  
“So, what is it? Getting cold feet? Can’t be because Sportacus is at fault, he was only a little older than you when your court was burned.” Circe questioned.  
Robbie stayed silent.  
Circe lowered her eyes. “Perhaps feeling a little guilt for making him chase you through a wickedly enchanted forest? One that nearly killed him?”  
“I thought you said you weren’t going to interrogate me.” Mumbled Robbie.  
“Well, you’re kind of making me do it!” Circe said annoyedly. She frowned. “Don’t tell me we’re back at square one, are we? Do you think that Sportacus is going to kill you? Murder you just because you’re some sort of hybrid faerie and he’s an elf?”  
“What if I do?” Robbie said, glaring daggers at the cat.  
Circe’s eyes took on a dangerous glare, and she stared in disbelief at the man.  
“Then I wonder if you really paid any attention for the last few months you two hung out together. Then I realize I underestimated the depths of how stupid you could be, if you still seriously believe that Sportacus is the same monster as the ones that killed your family.” She lowered her eyes. “Then I wonder what Sportacus sees in you.”  
Robbie’s eyes widened and he clenched his jaw.  
“Shut your mouth, you stupid cat.” He hissed.

That did it. Circe felt her heart stop just momentarily, and she processed the fact that Robbie had actually gone there. She furrowed her brow and bared her teeth.  
“Don’t you DARE call me stupid, when you’re letting so much stupidity spill from your mouth! I’m not the one spitting stupid comments and statements that, quite frankly, I don’t even think _you_ believe or think is true.” Circe growled.  
Robbie stood to his feet.  
“What makes you think you know what I’m thinking?”  
“Prior experience. First hand. I’ve been where you are.” Circe said, her anger falling.  
Robbie, on the other hand, held onto his anger which grew into disbelief.  
“You really think you know what I’m thinking? What I’m feeling? What I’ve _been_ through??” Robbie said, his voice cracking. He seethed. “How could some fur ball of a cat understand even an iota of how I feel? How could _you_ , out of anyone, know how _I_ feel, and could possibly relate? You’re just…just…an alley cat! An alley cat with magic upgrades!” Robbie said, ignoring the near immediate regret he felt from his comments.  
Circe didn’t seethe, or burn with any more anger. Instead, she responded in a cool fashion.  
“Just an alley cat, huh?” she asked coolly.  
She took a step forward.  
“You’ve really never considered that I might be more than just a witch’s cat?” She asked quietly.  
Robbie panted, and looked at the familiar incredulously.  
“Never, not even for a moment, questioned how a regular cat could possess powerful enough magic to walk through dreams and defeat a whole murder of homicidal crows?” She continued coolly, sitting up on her hind legs.  
“Why would I? You’re a witch’s familiar. All of them have magic. That’s what I was told.” Robbie responded.  
Circe slowly shook her head.  
“Yes, all witch familiars have magic, to an extent. But I’m no mere witch’s familiar. And if you knew what I was, you’d take back your ill-thought comment in a heartbeat.”  
Robbie lowered his eyes.  
“Then, what are you?” he asked in a low voice.  
Circe nodded.  
“I’ll show you.”  
She then shut her eyes. She took in a deep breath, letting the warm, summer air fill her nose and lungs, before she slowly exhaled. With each breath, sparks of blue magic built upon her whiskers and eyelids, collecting like dust on a table, forming a blanket of bright, blue light. The magic collected onto her paws and tail, twinkling brightly like stars. Robbie soon had to squint as the light grew more densely collected, combining their lights into a bright beam that nearly blinded him. The cat was soon more star than feline, her form a blinding beacon of magic that shimmered and sizzled through the air.  
She took one last breath, then exhaled.  
And the magic _exploded_.  
Robbie was sent flying backwards as streams of lacy, loopy magic swirled through the air, painting the open space with ancient sigils and symbols he couldn’t begin to understand. Sparks of light, like fireflies, danced briefly through the air, before vanishing from the visible plane forever. A concussive blast of magic shook the ground once more, and Robbie nearly felt his feet leave his landing place on the ground and send him tumbling backwards. He gasped, finally realizing he hadn’t breathed that whole time, and he laid back against the ground, going through a mental checklist to make sure all of him was intact.  
As he laid there, he heard a pair of feet crunching through the grasses, and he saw a figure looming above him, through from his angle they were nothing more than a blurry mass of colors.  
Once he finally sat up, he paused at the sight before him.

The first thing he noticed were the pair of eyes, one blue, the other brown, that stared at him intently, an impatient frustration present in their gaze. A face held them, with skin that maintained the leftover remnants of a summer tan and was spotted with a multitude of freckles. All of which was framed by a messy swath of dark brown, borderline black, hair that ended near her shoulders in a messy and wavy nest.  
She was dressed plainly in a sleeveless, green shirt and brown skirt that touched her ankles, a slit running up a few inches on the side from the bottom. Adorning her neck was the blue ribbon, the only clue Robbie had to the woman’s identity.  
But more striking, and the more shocking, were what hung from her back, and were currently splayed out in an aggressive and intimidating stance.  
Hanging from her back, flared out in an act of intimidation, were a pair of wings. Black ones, with edges that lightened to a pearl-like white color in a wavy fashion, and were accentuated with wavy lines of blood orange and maroon. Completing their striking appearance was a set of four markings, like teardrops, colored white and red that contrasted magnificently with the overall black coloration of her wings.  
Robbie, at first, was at a loss for words.  
“Y-You’re…” He finally began to say as he dumbly pointed at her.  
Circe didn’t look amused, nor put off by the man’s rather lame reaction.  
“A faerie, just like you. Yes. Now you’re starting to get the idea?” She said.  
Robbie still continued to stare.  
“I-I never…” He stammered.  
“Most wouldn’t. But now you can’t say I don’t know how you’re feeling or thinking, can you?”  
Robbie felt his mouth run dry.  
“I’ll take your silence as a yes. Nevertheless, there’s still something you need to see.” She said, leaning down to Robbie’s level. She laid a hand on his shoulder, as tendrils of white, curling magic stretched down towards him, filling his mind with white noise.  
“You showed Sportacus your past with the elves. Now it’s time I show you ours, and maybe you’ll finally see what we have in common.”

//

It was dark, musty, and cramped.

The walls were built of dirty, dark colored bricks, with mold and grime coating every corner and crook in the bricks. Water dripped into a puddle in the right corner, the only sound other than the shuffling of leather boots against the floor that filled the small room.  
Well, calling it a room would be generous.  
With the chains that sat idly to the side, covered in rust, and the cross-hatched bars that blocked out most of the sun from the window, it was clear where Circe was situated in.  
She sat back against the wall, her legs drawn up against her chest. She ran a finger across the old scrapes and cuts that littered her knees and legs, feeling the coarse texture of the scabs under her fingertips. Absently, she tugged at the end of her skirt, pulling it over her knees in the vain hope of keeping herself a little warmer. Her wings, clear and shimmery like a dragonfly’s, drooped at her sides, their tips dipping into the murky puddles on the floor.  
Her attention, however, wasn’t on her oppressive surroundings.  
No, it was fixated upon a single point outside her window.  
Where she knew the guards had thrown her necklace.

It wasn’t a fancy necklace. Just a piece of blown glass, colored green and shaped like a teardrop, that hung from a thin piece of black ribbon.  
But what made it special was it was a gift from her mother.  
Her seventh birthday present.  
The last thing she had from home.  
And now, due to the terrible mockery of a certain brown-haired elf that served as one of her guards, the valuable trinket now sat several feet away from her window, still laying in the same spot the elf had chucked it.  
She’d seen it several times before. At least six times now she’d flown up to her window, perching her arms on the window’s sill, keeping a wary distance between the bars and her skin (she knew they’d been coated with some form of iron), and gazed longingly upon her discarded jewelry.  
Her neck felt naked without it, and had the bars been made of something other than iron, she might’ve retrieved it by now.  
But no, it still sat there. Thankfully, it still sat there, and wasn’t snatched up by some passerby.  
But it was still out of Circe’s reach.

So, she sat in her cell, looking up at the window that provided the only source of light in her dank cell.  
With so little to do, she’d often just stare outside the window, watching the boots of pedestrians that would cast shadows across her floor. Sure, there weren’t many, given that the prison’s wall sat parallel to another, less trafficked building, and the alleyway was filled with discarded crates that would usually deter most travelers from passing through. But occasionally there’d be one of two, and their presence would provide one of the few times Circe would hear about the outside world.  
News about the elven king, or another Unseelie faerie or its court being eradicated. Laughter would be had, and praises towards their king.  
It made Circe sick.  
Today, however, there were no travelers. The alley remained completely empty and silent.  
So, she played with a spare pebble on her floor, rolling it around underneath her palm and sighing tiredly.  
Perhaps today would be the day the guards would relent and give her something to keep herself occupied. A book, perhaps. Or even crayons.  
…even that was probably too optimistic of a thought.  
She leaned her head back against the wall, and continued to stare outside the window, quietly willing her necklace to bounce back through the bars and into her open palm.  
That didn’t happen of course, but instead she heard the sounds of shoes against pavement. And soon a shadow, far too small to belong to a grown-up, crossed the window’s reach, blocking out part of the late afternoon sun from her cell.  
She didn’t pay much attention until she noticed the shadow linger. She sat up, and stared intently at the figure. She couldn’t make out much from where she was sitting, but she could tell that the person was staring at something near the wall, and was crouching.  
She puzzled through the possibilities for a moment until a very real possibility crossed her mind, causing her face to grow white and a snarl to develop on her face.  
The elves had already taken so much from her. No way in _hell_ were they taking her necklace too.

Charging up to the window with a furious fluttering of wings, Circe slapped her hands against the wall and poked her face as close to the bars as she dared.  
“Hey! Thief! That’s my necklace, so buzz off!” She growled.  
The elf, a young boy she now realized, leapt back in alarm and fell to the ground, his eyes blown wide open. His chest rose and fell in short intervals, and he stared at her in fear.  
“I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t going to take it! I just saw something shiny over here and wanted to take a look at it.” He explained.  
Circe raised an eyebrow.  
“You expect me to believe that? Coming from someone like you?” She said skeptically.  
The boy nodded.  
“I swear, I wasn’t.” He said with a tremor. He glanced to his side, eying the shining, green pendant that sat next to a pile of trash. With a shaking hand, and with an all too present awareness of how the girl scrutinized him, he plucked the necklace off the ground. Cleaning off some grime and muck from its surface, he crept close to the prison’s bars, sitting himself down a few inches away from the window. He carefully held the necklace close to the bars, making sure the edges of the ribbon poked through the holes in the bars.  
Circe immediately looked at him with suspicion.  
“What are you doing? Is this a trick?” she asked angrily.  
“N-No! I just figured you’d want it back.” The boy said quietly.  
Circe paused, stared down the necklace and the boy, before quickly snatching the necklace away and running her finger across its edge. Sure enough, no charms or hexes. The boy had truly just given it back. No tricks or trades.  
The boy, still sitting by the window, looked at Circe with awe.  
“So…you’re a faerie?” he asked.  
Circe’s gaze shot back to him.  
“Yeah, what about it?” she said.  
A curious look crossed the boy’s face.  
“What’s it like? You know, to be able to fly without charms or spells?” he asked.  
Circe’s expression softened from anger and suspicion to perplexity.  
“Um, it’s…nice? I guess? I don’t know, I don’t think much about it.” She answered with a shrug as she tied her necklace back around her neck.  
A small, half-smile crossed the boy’s face.  
“I bet it’s fantastic. It seems like it, at least.”  
Circe raised her eyebrow once more at the boy.  
“Aren’t you, I don’t know, scared?”  
The boy looked surprised. “No? Should I?”  
“I mean, I just thought you know…I’m a _faerie_.”  
The boy smiled. “But you’re a Seelie faerie. A good guy. At least, that’s what my teacher says.” He cocked his head to the side. “You are a Seelie, right?”  
Circe cast a glance to the side.  
“…Sure. Yeah, I-I am.”  
The boy’s smile returned. “Then I wouldn’t have to be scared! You’re not an Unseelie, but a Seelie!” The smile faded. “Though, then again, why are you in jail?”

Circe shrugged.  
“Just because I’m part of the good guys doesn’t mean we’re all good, right?”  
The boy looked very confused.  
“Never mind.” Circe sighed. “All I’ll say is that those guards think I’m a bad person, so I’m in here. Simple as that.”  
“I don’t think you’re bad.” Said the boy.  
“You can’t know that. You don’t even know my name.” Circe retorted.  
“Well, what is your name?”  
Circe’s expression softened. She looked away and crossed her arms.  
“I’ll say mine if you say yours first.”  
The boy grinned.  
“Sure! I’m Sportacus!” he said, nearly thrusting out his arm. He recoiled. “I guess I can’t shake your hand, huh?”  
“Not a good idea, no.” Circe snorted. She smirked. “Sportacus, huh? You elves got some weird names.”  
Sportacus frowned. “Well, what’s your name? I hear faerie names are odd too, if not even more weird.”  
“Bullcrap.” Circe said, grinning as she watched Sportacus’s expression twist to horror at her language. “Our names are at least elegant. Ours don’t sound like they came from cereal mascots.”  
Sportacus twisted his lip.  
“Then what’s your name, oh faerie with supposedly a better name?” He asked.  
Circe gave him a small smile.  
“The name’s Circe.”  
“Circe?” said Sportacus, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of name is that?”  
“It’s Greek, you ignoramus!” Circe said, offended.  
“It’s weird. Sounds like ‘Circle’.” He said.  
“You’re one to judge. You sound like a rejected sidekick for a lame superhero.” Circe said, sticking out her tongue.  
“Yeah, well…” Sportacus said, struggling for a retort. “…your name’s dumb.”  
“I think you mean that I win. Your name’s worse.” Circe said haughtily, exalting in her minor victory.  
“Yeah, well not like I got a choice in it.” Mumbled Sportacus, stewing in his loss. He gave her a look. “You know, for a Seelie faerie, you’re not very nice.”  
“While I may not be nice, you also could do with a tougher skin.” Said Circe.  
Sportacus shrugged. “Guess you’re right.”  
Circe’s haughtiness shrunk away as she looked at the sad look on the elf’s face. Against her usual manner, she said,  
“Hey, I, uh, was just kidding about the name stuff. I guess between getting a superhero-like name and being named, I don’t know, ‘Hubert’, I’d take Sportacus any day.”  
Sportacus laughed. “Would you?”  
“Sincerely!” affirmed Circe.  
Sportacus smiled. “And I would take ‘Circe’ before ‘Hubert’ also.”  
“Glad we got that settled.” Sighed Circe with a smile.

A bell’s ring rang through the air, its sound sweet and high-pitched, reminding Circe a human’s church bells.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened and shot up onto his feet.  
“Oh no! I stayed out too late! Aww, mom’s gonna kill me!” He panicked, looking at the side.  
He prepared to turn and run, before he stopped.  
“Hey, you going to be around tomorrow?” he asked.  
Circe gave him a look.  
“Oh, right. Stupid question.” Sportacus said apologetically. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow then?”  
“Why?”  
“To hang out?” Sportacus said, a faint smile crossing his face. “I figured we’d want to hang out, since you’re my friend and all.”  
Circe’s eyes widened. “You don’t even know me! How – “  
“See you tomorrow!” Sportacus said, waving as he darted around a corner.  
Circe couldn’t even finish her retort before Sportacus vanished, leaving her alone in her quiet cell one more.  
She shrunk against the wall and slid back down to the floor, groaning with aggravation at the uncannily friendly and kind nature she’d just witnessed from the young elf boy. She pondered how anyone could be as naively positive and friendly as he was. Thinking about him coming back tomorrow gave her a headache.  
Her fingertips ghosted across the surface of her necklace, and the original annoyance soon faded away. She looked about her cell, empty as ever, and sighed.  
Part of her wondered if he’d forget.

As a matter of fact, Sportacus didn’t forget.

The very next day, he showed up at Circe’s cell once more, knocking quietly at the brick exterior of the prison with a smile on his face.  
He didn’t stay terribly long, as he said he had homework to finish and a test to study for. But he did stay long enough to tell Circe about the Elven curriculum and the events of the day. Circe would normally interject with her own life’s events, but given that she sat in a cell all day, she figured that wouldn’t be interesting conversation.  
“So, what do they tell you about faeries in your school?” Circe asked.  
Sportacus looked up thoughtfully.  
“Kind of depends. They don’t talk much about Seelie faeries, but my teacher says they all have wings like dragonflies, and they have special magic when it comes to sewing. She also says they’re nice and one of our allies.”  
“I see.” Circe said. “And what about Unseelies?”  
Sportacus grimaced. “Oh, we learn a lot about Unseelie faeries. Mostly about the war with them. My teacher said they have teeth like wild dogs and these huge, fuzzy wings like moths. She said they like to creep through the shadows to steal human children and kill their parents.”  
Circe’s face paled. “Is that so?”  
“Yeah, and that’s why they send out soldiers all the time. She says we have to contain and control them so they don’t destroy all the human towns. It’s our duty.” Sportacus said, rolling a pebble across the ground. “She said it’s a great honor to one day be sent out to eliminate the evil Unseelie faeries. I know a lot of my classmates want to be soldiers one day just to do that.”  
Circe could feel her stomach churn, sending heat to her face and making her feel dizzy.  
“W-What about you?”  
Sportacus shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t really like seeing blood and stuff. That’s more my dad’s thing. He’s a captain.”  
“Oh.” Circe said, placing a hand against the brick wall to stabilize herself.  
Sportacus looked down worriedly.  
“Are you okay?”  
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just felt faint.” Circe said.  
Sportacus pulled a small piece of bread out of his pocket.  
“I’ve got some food if you’d like it.”  
“No thanks. I kind of lost my appetite.” Circe mumbled.

Despite that awkward day, Sportacus and Circe’s other days of hanging out were far more pleasant. Sportacus would often visit, immediately after school, usually showing Circe his schoolbooks and, on occasion by Circe’s request, some of the lessons he’d been taught that day. On the days where the patrols were lighter (most likely because the soldiers had been sent out to attend to an Unseelie court), Sportacus would even sit by Circe’s cell and do his homework right there, with Circe occasionally offering answers.  
“Forty-seven.” She said.  
“What?” Sportacus said.  
“That’s the answer.” Circe said, pointing at his book.  
“But…how?” Sportacus asked, looking at his book with perplexity.  
“A faerie just knows things.” Circe said, giving a nod.  
“But…this is my literature book.” Sportacus said, turning the book towards her.  
Circe stared intently at the book, frowning at its words.  
“Well, I meant that was the answer to your math homework. Obviously for your book, the elephant symbolizes racism.”  
“There’s no elephants in this story.” Sportacus said quietly.  
“Hey, you want my help or not??” Circe asked.  
Sportacus raised a hand. “I like your help! Please, don’t stop.”  
Circe nodded.  
“Because your answers are good for a laugh.” Sportacus said under his breath.  
“What?”  
“Nothing.”

Then, one day, Sportacus stopped by Circe’s cell, holding a small sack in his hand.  
“Hey Circe, I brought you some of my marbles! I thought you might like them to play with while you’re in your – “Sportacus started, before stopping.  
It was hard to see, but if Sportacus crouched by the wall, he could barely make out the shape of Circe, who was curled up in a ball on the ground.  
Sportacus’s heart froze.  
“C-Circe?” He asked worriedly.  
A groan from inside the cell at least assuaged his worst fears. His friend was at least alive.  
He squinted as he peered through the window.  
“Circe, are you okay? What’s wrong?” he asked.  
Finally, after a harsh cough, Circe answered.  
“I’m fine. Just not feeling good. My stomach hurts.” Circe grumbled.  
Sportacus’s face paled.  
“Do you need me to get a doctor? Or at least some help?”  
“What doctor’s going to see me, Sportacus? Remember? I’m a prisoner.” Circe said, before folding into a raspy cough, a light flickering around her back.  
Sportacus noticed that flicker, so he drew as close as he dared to the bars.  
“Sorry, I don’t think we should hang out today. I’m feeling really bad.” Circe said quietly, before hacking once more. The light around her back flickered more, and the image of her wings faded.  
Sportacus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  
Circe coughed once more, and that seemed to do it. She shuddered, and a wavering in the air like heat waves wiggled and shivered before finally vanishing, and whatever they hid was finally put on full display for Sportacus.  
He gasped in shock.  
Circe’s dragonfly wings were no more. Instead they were replaced by fuzzy black wings with red and white markings.  
_Like a moth’s wings_.  
Circe turned around and looked curiously at Sportacus.  
“Sportacus?”  
Sportacus fell backwards and scuttled away from the window, his eyes wide with fear.  
“Sportacus? What’s wrong?” asked Circe as she fluttered up to the window.  
“You’re an Unseelie!” He sputtered.  
Circe looked at her back, and cringed as she saw her true wings.  
“Please don’t hurt me!” Sportacus said fearfully.  
Circe gave the elf a look. “What? Why would I hurt you?”  
“Because Unseelie faeries _hate_ elves! And _I’m_ an elf! You have to hate me!” Sportacus said nervously.  
“What?! No, I don’t!” Circe protested. She drew closer to the window’s bars. “Sportacus, I thought we were friends! That’s what we are, right?”  
“I mean, yeah? B-but, you’re an Unseelie faerie, and you’re in jail! That must mean…” Sportacus started.  
“Don’t you finish that sentence!” said Circe angrily.  
Sportacus froze.  
Circe looked at him miserably. “I’m not some human killer. I’m not _that_ kind of Unseelie faerie. I’m not, and neither was anyone in my family or court. So, don’t you _dare_ lump me with those other faeries. They’re _scum_ to both the Unseelies and your kingdom.”

The two stared at each other in silence.  
“I don’t understand. In school, they always said that…that _all_ Unseelie were…” said Sportacus quietly, his face paling. He paused and collected himself, before he spoke again. “I-If you’re not bad, then why are you in prison?”  
Circe stopped, then sighed tiredly.  
“They took me. I don’t know why, but they did. Well, maybe I _do_ know.” She said, her hands resting on the brick edge. “They took me because I saw too much.”  
“The night I was taken, I remember seeing elves from your kingdom visit my court. They said there were two fugitive Unseelie faeries hiding out among us and they were looking for them. No one paid them much mind because they were doing our court a service. Except…” She said, sucking in a ragged breath. “…then there were these other elves. They didn’t dress like the first group, but they came in with swords all the same. I saw them. They were wearing these pins. Looked like a setting sun. They found those two faeries and _slaughtered_ them in the middle of the street. I know it shocked a lot of people. I always heard the elven guard carried out the killings more discretely. But no, not this time. And when they saw how many faeries were getting scared, they…”  
Circe stopped, and closed her eyes as she collected herself.  
Sportacus continued to listen in stunned silence, tears welling in his eyes.  
“They killed twelve that night. Two criminal faeries, ten of my neighbors. Both grown-ups and kids like us. The ten were innocent, good faeries. I know they were. My uncle and brother were part of them. And when the guards saw what happened, they started using glamours and spells to cover up what’d happened. Made everyone who survived forget what they saw.”  
A few tears escaped Sportacus.  
“N-No! They wouldn’t! The guards wouldn’t do that!”  
“They did though!” Circe protested.  
“Then…Then why do _you_ have your memories still? Why are you the only one who remembers all that?” asked Sportacus angrily.  
Circe looked at him solemnly. “They didn’t catch me. I saw, and I had disguised myself as a Seelie to avoid getting killed by those other elves. When they found me, what looked like a Seelie girl in the middle of an Unseelie court, they arrested me and took me here.”  
Sportacus looked at Circe. What he thought of, _knew_ about, Unseelie faeries and how the bad ones were eradicated gnawed at the back of his mind, making him want to deny what Circe was saying. At the same time though, it would explain her disguise. It would explain why she was even there.  
“Why would they keep you here then? If…If they really did kill other kids, why spare you?” asked Sportacus quietly.  
Circe looked at Sportacus sadly. “Because I disguised myself as a Seelie. They have the right to murder Unseelies I guess, but if they killed a Seelie? Probably not a good thing.” Her eyes drifted down. “And, well, I’m sure your king wouldn’t want others to know that some of his subjects killed a bunch of innocent faeries, and his own guard covered it up, would he? Keeping me here just makes sense.”  
Sportacus wanted to respond, but the words tangled in his mouth. It was all a lot to take in. His thoughts ran to his father’s friends, other guards and captains for the king. Were they the ones covering up the gruesome massacre of Circe’s family and neighbors? The ones he remembered seeing and knowing since he was an infant. The thought sent ice into Sportacus’s heart.  
“I…” Sportacus said near silently, tipping and nearly falling onto his back. He caught himself just in time.  
Circe looked at him sympathetically. “I guess it’s a lot to take in, huh? Sorry to just dump it on you like that.”  
Sportacus looked up at his friend, his eyes still watery but his expression turning from sorrow to worry.  
“What will happen then? If your glamours fail? You can’t keep them up forever.”  
A sad glimmer appeared in Circe’s eyes.  
“Then…I guess they’ll kill me too. I’m the last witness, and I’m sure they won’t send me back. Too tricky for their tastes if I fooled the king’s guards with a simple glamour trick.”  
  
A few more tears rolled down his face. Sportacus sucked in a breath and looked determinedly at his friend.  
“No. I’m not gonna let that happen.”  
Circe looked at him with confusion.  
“Innocent people don’t deserve to die, and you’re innocent.” Sportacus said seriously. “But even more so, you’re my friend. I won’t let that happen to you. I promise.”  
Circe gave him a sad look. “Making a promise to a faerie? Don’t you know that’s bad?”  
“I don’t care.” Sportacus said with a head shake. “I’m going to keep you safe.”  
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Circe said quietly.  
Sportacus leaned closer to the bars, nearly spooking Circe.  
“Circe, I…” Sportacus said, looking at her guiltily. “…I’m really sorry I reacted so badly. To your wings and you being an Unseelie, I mean. I didn’t know, and I was stupid. I want to make it up to you by keeping you safe and alive. And, hopefully, I’ll get you out of there too.”  
Circe gave him a weak smile.  
“Dummy, it’s okay. I forgive you. Trust me, your reaction was _tame_ compared to what the guards said about Unseelies like me.”  
“I still feel bad though.” Sportacus mumbled.  
“Well, you at least apologized. That makes you at least a hundred times better than the average elf.” Circe laughed.  
Sportacus laughed alongside her, and a few tears escaped him.  
“I’m serious though. I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let those…those stupid bully guards kill you.” Sportacus said, wiping away the tears.  
“Thanks for the thought, friend.” Circe said, hurriedly wiping away the single tear that escaped her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, kind of like with chapters 6 and 7, this chapter and the next one were originally one chapter, but I decided to split them into two halves for readibility. So if the ending feels a little abrupt, that's why lol.
> 
> Reference for Circe's wings: http://backyardsfornature.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Cecropia-Moth-Creative-Commons.jpg  
> (Warning if you have a fear of insects. No eyes are in the picture, but if you dislike bugs then you might not want to click the link.)
> 
> The next chapter should be up in the next few days. Just need to edit and review it to make sure it sounds good. I'm hoping to have it up by Monday at the latest, so you all won't have to wait long to see more flashback and stuff! We're getting close to winding down now!
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	20. Echoes of the Past Pt. 2

Days slipped by after that. Occasionally, Circe would let her true self show, letting the glamours fade enough for Sportacus to see her real wings.  
Those days were sleepy and quiet, and the two would just do whatever they felt like, given the confines they had to work with.  
One day Sportacus brought human comic books that his father had brought him from his journeys.  
“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. Your name is a superhero name. Though, I think it’s a ton better name than Plastic Man.” Commented Circe as she flipped through another issue.

Another day the two played with cootie catchers, asking each other questions. More than a few caused the two to spill a few hidden secrets to each other.  
“I’m deathly allergic to kumquats.” Circe said.  
“I once hid fish heads in my teacher’s lunch as a joke. I got detention for three weeks.” Sportacus said.  
“My parents used to call me ‘Dust Bunny’ because I liked to play in the dirt and mud.” Circe said.  
“My uncle Edward sent me some really old and boring books last Christmas and I traded them away for a new basketball.” Sportacus said.  
“My dad used to take me to the market every Sunday, and I’d get a cinnamon twisted pastry. I…kind of miss them.” Circe said, her voice growing mournful.  
“You’re the first friend I ever had.” Sportacus said quietly.  
“Really?” asked Circe that day.  
“Really. And I’m glad you’re my friend.” Said Sportacus with a sad smile.  
  
And yet another day, the two stared at the stars. Well, more like Sportacus stared at the stars, while describing what he saw to Circe.  
“Orion is really visible tonight. And I can see Pegasus and Gemini over there too.” Sportacus said.  
“Are there a lot of them tonight?”  
Sportacus nodded. “Yeah, so many stars. Can barely see the dark sky with how many there are.”  
“It sounds great.” Said Circe quietly.

Their days continued like this for a while. Sportacus visiting, and the two talking and hanging out all the while avoiding the patrols of guards. They had a few close calls, but each time Sportacus would duck behind some boxes, out of their view.

But, of course, those days couldn’t, and didn’t, last forever.

There came a day that Sportacus came to visit Circe, carrying a small pastry he snuck away from his kitchen for his friend.  
But when he approached, all he could hear was sobbing. And when he crouched down to look through the window, he caught a sight he didn’t think he would see: Circe, balled up on the floor, crying fat tears and weeping openly.  
“Circe?” he asked quietly.  
Circe looked up at him with reddened face and watery tears. He didn’t have to ask what was wrong, because as she sniffled and wiped away snot and tears frantically, as if to hide the very obvious fact that she’d been crying, she shakily said,  
“They found out. They found out I’m an Unseelie faerie, Sportacus. They’re going to kill me. They’re going to execute me _tonight_.”  
Instantly, the world froze. And Sportacus could feel his heart sink, all the way down to his toes. He could feel tears welling in his own eyes. He brushed away the collected tears with his wrist, and shook his head angrily.  
“No. No they’re not.” He said.  
Circe looked at him nervously.  
“Sportacus, no. I know what you’re thinking, and you’d better not do it. I know you made your promise, but it’s not binding! There was no deal! Please, don’t be stupid. Just…just keep going, okay?” she said with a weak smile.  
Sportacus looked at her with an unyielding frown.  
“I’ll be back.” He said, sprinting towards his home.  
“Sportacus!” cried Circe, but it was too late.  
Sportacus was already gone.

He wasn’t going to lose her. Not his one friend. Not someone he cared about so much.  
Even if it seemed impossible, he was going to save her.  
Somehow.  
He remembered how his mother specialized in magical twine. A kind strong enough to cut through steel. She manufactured it for the royal guards, but she always kept some at home.  
It was his best shot.  
He rushed through the front door and sped towards his mother’s work room.  
“Sportacus? What were you doing out so late?” asked his mother, who had looked up from her reading.  
Sportacus didn’t answer. Instead, he ran into her work room and grabbed a fistful of the magic twine. He stuffed it into his pocket, freezing momentarily as he heard his mother’s footsteps falling towards him.  
“Sportacus? What are you doing in there? You know you’re not supposed to be in my work room!”  
Sportacus cringed and, whispering a few choice words under his breath, vanished in a puff of blue smoke, right before his mother opened the door and discovered his plan.  
He rematerialized outside Circe’s cell, stumbling only slightly from his hasty and poorly planned teleportation spell. Once he’d gathered himself, he ran straight towards her window and pulled out the twine.  
“Sportacus, what are you doing?? If they see you – “Circe started.  
“I don’t care if they see me! I’m going to get you out of there! You’re not going to die because you don’t deserve to die and you’re my friend! Now stay back!” Sportacus said sternly, wrapping the twine around the metal bars.  
Once he created a secure hold, he tugged backwards on the twine. The rope hissed and sizzled, sending rainbow sparks flying through the air. The bars buckled and groaned before breaking completely, the pieces clattering to the floor of her cell.  
Unfortunately, the sound drew the attention of the guards in the prison.  
“Someone’s outside the prisoner’s cell!” shouted one guard.  
“The faerie girl is trying to escape!” roared another.  
Circe’s face paled, and instantly she took flight. Exerting some effort, she squeezed through the tiny window and out into the night air, wincing as the remaining shards of iron grazed her skin and left streaks of burns on her stomach.  
Sportacus caught her and helped her to her feet.  
“I can’t believe that worked.” Circe gasped. “That’s some pretty great stuff you got there.”  
Sportacus grinned. “Magic twine of my mom’s making. It’s the best stuff in the kingdom.”  
“Nifty, though I don’t think she expected it to be used the way you used it though.” Circe said with a smirk.  
“Probably not.” Sportacus laughed.

The rumbling sound of boots crashing against the pavement caught both of their attentions.  
Grabbing her hand, Sportacus pulled Circe in one direction further down the alley.  
Lagging behind, Circe peered behind her, watching as the guards’ lanterns glowed a hellish orange against the walls and ground, casting deep shadows in their light. She watched how they charged in eerie unison, and how they drew closer with every second.  
Gritting her teeth, Circe shot a glare in their direction.  
“Shockwave!” she spat in an ancient tongue, throwing her hand out towards the approaching guards.  
The shock of blue cut through the orange light, and the first wave of guards uttered shuddered gasps and screams as electricity coursed through their bodies, sending them twitching and shivering to the ground, convulsing uncontrollably. The lightning arced through the second and third waves as well, creating a pile of unconscious guards laying on the floor of the alley.  
“Don’t kill them!” begged Sportacus.  
“Relax, I didn’t. Just knocked them out for a while.” Circe said, closing her fist.  
Undeterred, the next waves of guards simply leapt and flipped over their fallen companions and charged ahead.  
Sportacus and Circe ducked around a corner, running aimlessly and wildly through the emptied streets, passing by neatly kept potted plants and glowing magic lanterns that cast vibrant colors across the ground. Circe attempted to gain lift, pulling Sportacus close to her body as she did, only to find her wings faltering under the strain.  
“We can’t fly together! We just need to keep running!” urged Sportacus.  
Circe reluctantly landed and continued running.  
“Where are we going?” Circe asked.  
“No idea! Just not here!” Sportacus panted. He gave her a smile. “I’m going to get you away from the kingdom’s boundary lines. We’re on the outer edges, so the boundary is a few miles away. We’ll duck over, and hide out until the guards give up the chase. Then I’ll take you to the nearest Unseelie court.”  
“And you? What about you?”  
Sportacus paused only momentarily, his face going blank. He then weakly smiled. “Could you put a good word in for me?”  
Circe gave him a tired smile. “No promises, but I can try my best.”

Before Sportacus could respond, Circe gasped in alarm, her gaze focused in front of them.  
Sportacus turned, and the blood drained from his face.  
Another legion of guards had built a blockade down the road, blocking the exit out of town. They had their swords drawn, their shields creating a wall that split freedom away from them.  
Sportacus glanced back, seeing the other group of soldiers gaining on them, their leather boots thumping against the pavement.  
Panting, Sportacus tugged Circe’s hand and pulled her into an alleyway, hoping desperately that the alley would lead towards another path out of town.  
“Frost!” Circe shouted in the ancient tongue, throwing her hand behind her blindly.  
Like the crackling of paper, Sportacus heard the noise of thickening ice build behind them. A brief glance back sent fear down into his heart, as he witnessed a few of the less fortunate guards freeze solid, their bodies tipping onto the ground with loud thuds. However, Circe’s rebuttal only stopped the first group of soldiers, as the rest came barreling through.  
“Cast it again!” Sportacus begged despite his apprehension.  
Circe shouted once more and threw her hand out, but only a thin stream of blue smoke and a few measly sparks followed her command this time.  
“Crap, I’m too tired.” She said, her voice a tone of anger mixed with despair.  
Sportacus tried to focus on the hopes of another escape, when a brick wall ended any hopes right then and there. He ground to a halt, bracing himself as Circe crashed into his back, sending them stumbling forward. Righting themselves, Sportacus and Circe checked each other before turning with defiant yet terrified eyes towards the approaching guards.  
Sportacus felt himself instinctively shrink back, the thought of his friend being the only thing keeping him upright and not crying.  
Circe stared down the guards angrily, even as terrified tears gave away her true emotions.  
“End of the line, _Unseelie_.” Spat the first guard, drawing his sword.  
“No!” shouted Sportacus, as he steeled himself and stepped in front of Circe. He stretched out his arms and stared at the guard, trying to look as determined as possibly even with his arms shaking.  
The guard’s eyes widened and, temporarily, he lowered his sword.  
“Sportacus? What are you doing here? Don’t you know what this is?” The guard asked, gesturing with his sword towards Circe.  
Circe shot a nasty glare at the guard.  
“I know _who_ she is. She’s my friend, and I’m not letting you get any closer!” Sportacus said defiantly.  
The guard frowned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sportacus. Now move out of the way so I can take care of this menace.” The guard warned.  
Sportacus shook his head.  
“I’m not letting you hurt my friend.” Sportacus said with a glare.  
Circe, feeling some strength return to her, joined Sportacus in forming a tiny blockade. Standing by his side, she flared her wings threateningly.  
“And if you hurt him, I _will_ make your job as difficult as possible.” She growled.  
The guard seemed undeterred. He raised his sword up, pointing it at the two children.  
“I’ve given you warning, Sportacus. If you don’t move, I’ll be forced to end you with her. Don’t make me have to tell your father that you died committing an act of treason.” The guard said sternly.  
Sportacus stood strong, only giving a side glance to Circe, who mirrored his sentiment. The two children kept their ground.  
“Very well then. You’ve made your choice.” Said the guard with a sigh, as he pulled his arm back, preparing to thrust his sword into Sportacus’s chest.  
Sportacus stared in fear.  
Circe prepared to leap out and attack.

Whatever either group intended to do wouldn’t come to pass. At least not in that moment.

For right before the guard prepared to make his first strike and, subsequently, lead to Circe’s retaliation, a burst of bright orange light and smoke split the battle lines and interrupted the flow of the fight. Both groups leapt backwards, flinching and covering their eyes from the intruder who’d teleported in the middle of this obscure, random alley.  
Sportacus was the first of the group to open his eyes, waving away the thin trails of colored smoke, mouth dropping open once he’d finally realized who’d arrived.  
“Mom?” he asked in a hushed voice.  
Sportacus’s mother, a terrifying sight with her flowing blonde hair and glaring green eyes, turned on her heel towards the sound of her son’s voice, her pupils dilating.  
Sportacus felt the blood rush from his face.  
In a split second, Sportacus’s mother tucked into a roll, barreling towards her son. Ending her roll right by Sportacus’s feet, she yanked him into a close hold, pressing him against her chest as she leapt away, leaving Circe alone at their spot.  
Once Sportacus finally had the chance, he wrenched away from his mother’s hold, his attention turning back to Circe.  
The young faerie girl’s eyes were frozen wide with fear, her pupils dilating as they stood fixed upon a spot above Sportacus’s head.  
Sportacus looked up and realized what his friend had seen.  
His mother was lifting her other hand, her fingers glowing a bright orange as her gaze dropped to her son.  
“We’re going home, Sportacus.” She said quietly, her hand glowing brighter.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened, his gaze snapping back to his friend.  
“Cir - !” He began to yell, but was interrupted as he and his mother vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Circe alone with the guards in the alleyway.

Both Sportacus and his mother tumbled into their living room, her back hitting against the back wall and nearly sending a vase toppling to the ground. She panted, gasping for air as her chest rose and fell, her hold on her son tightening.  
Sportacus, on the other hand, immediately began to fight and claw away from his mother’s grasp, his muffled yells and protests hidden by her dress. Once he finally managed to crawl away, he looked at his mother with fear and anger.  
“What did you do?! We have to go back!” He begged, his shaking hands preparing another teleportation spell.  
His mother immediately leapt to her feet, and she lunged forward and clasped her son’s hands between hers.  
“We’re not going back, Sportacus. You’re going to stay right here.” His mother said sternly, even as her voice wavered.  
“T-They’re going to _kill_ her, Mom! I have to go back! I have to protect her!” Sportacus said frantically as he futilely fought against his mother’s vice-like grip.  
“Why. Why, dear, _why_ would you defend her?? Don’t you know what she is?” His mother said worriedly.  
“I do know! She’s my _friend_ , and I promised I’d keep her safe! Let me go!” Sportacus said, his voice quivering as he continued to wrench and pull.  
“But she’s an Unseelie, Sportacus!” His mother protested.  
“She’s a _good_ Unseelie, mom!”  
“She’s dangerous, dear!”  
“No! No, she’s not!” Sportacus nearly screamed, tears rolling down his face. He stared at his mother with a serious gaze. “She’s innocent! It’s the guards that are dangerous! And those other elves! They’re the ones that murdered her uncle, brother, and neighbors! And the guards are no better; they brainwashed everyone who witnessed what happened! They’re murderers!”  
The light and color drained from his mother’s face, and he could swear he heard her heart stop.  
“D-Dear, don’t…how…” She stuttered, her voice strained with horror. “Don’t you dare say such things! That’s treasonous talk! You can’t possibly say that that’s the truth!” She said nervously.  
“But IT IS! The guards imprisoned her because she’d tell the Seelie queen! She’d tell her that the king’s guards helped a bunch of other elves kill innocent Unseelies! The king doesn’t want her to say anything, so he imprisoned her!” Sportacus said, furrowing his brow.  
His mother’s expression first locked in a look of burning rage, denial, and fear. Then, rather suddenly, it softened, and she sighed, distressed. She massaged the bridge of her nose, before she looked at her son sadly.  
“Sportacus, go to your room.” She said.  
Sportacus’s body drooped.  
“What? Why?!”  
“To your room, Sportacus! I need to speak with your father before we talk anymore.” She said tiredly, cupping her head in her hands.  
Sportacus, looking at his mother in disbelief, only gave a slow nod as he walked towards his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Minutes passed. Minutes that felt like days.  
Sportacus attempted to cast a teleportation spell several times within that period, only to find his spells fizzling.  
He’d cry out in frustration with each attempt, feeling the seconds tick by on his clock, each tick like a bullet striking his heart.  
He had to get out and find Circe.  
But without his spells, he wouldn’t be able to find and reach her in time. The city was much too large to run and seek her out. He’d barely be able to traverse a quarter of the town before he presumed he’d be…  
He sniffled and clapped his hands together, hoping beyond hope that perhaps this time he’d be successful.  
Another fizzle, another frustrated cry.  
He leaned against the door defeatedly, his thoughts going towards the spirits, his prayers silent as he begged for his friend’s life. To keep her alive just long enough for him to reach her again. To try another escape plan.  
A distant creak caught his attention, the creak of the front door.  
A slam, and then a deep voice. His father’s.  
“Eleina, is everything okay? I came as soon as you called.” He said.  
“No, everything’s _not_ okay, Íþró.” His mother sighed.  
“Where’s Sportacus? Did they…?” He asked nervously.  
“No, I saved him in time.” Eleina explained.  
A pause.  
“Íþró, the Unseelie girl. Is she…did they…? His mother asked nervously.  
A sigh, then a weary response.  
“She fought hard, from what I was told. But Captain Eymundur and his brigade finally subdued her. She’s gone now.”  
The world stopped its movement in that moment.  
Everything, all senses, seemed to go still as Sportacus fought and failed to process what he’d just heard.  
Tears rolled down his face, but he barely noticed them.  
“No…” He said in a whisper, his throat growing tight and dry.  
He didn’t make it in time.  
Circe was gone.  
He sunk against the door, slipping to floor as he choked back sobs. He shook, barely able to continue to listen his parents’ conversation.  
“Oh gods, Íþró. Just…what happened? You told me the guards don’t hurt the children. What…why was there an Unseelie child in the city?”  
Pause.  
“Íþró, please.” His mother said sternly.  
“The Rebels of the Setting Sun. Captain Fenrir’s guard witnessed their aftermath. They tried to finish as much damage control as they could, but they saw a little Seelie girl in the ruins. Turns out she wasn’t a Seelie, but an Unseelie faerie who’d been lucky enough to survive and tricky enough to fool our guards. We had to end her, if only because she was too slippery to be kept imprisoned.”  
Sportacus could hear his mother gasp in horror.  
“Íþró, wasn’t…there must’ve been another way. She was an Unseelie, yes, but she was still a _child_.”  
A sigh.  
“It wasn’t my call, Eleina. We were given orders from the top command to execute her. Even if we refused, we’d have to. It’s our duty.”  
Pause  
“Íþró, I…I believe you mentioned the rebels? But…but the king said they were stomped out. How could they still be active?”  
“I wish they were, Eleina. But, they’re not just still here. They’ve _grown_. This is the third of their messes we’ve had to clean up within a month, and it’s only getting worse. My last assignment was to clean up the remains of one of the courts they destroyed. Complete destruction. Seelie, Unseelie, and some other faerie types were amongst the dead.”  
“Oh gods. Íþró…”  
“I don’t know _what’s_ going on, Eleina. Soon after the king’s decree, those rebels just started popping up everywhere. Attacking innocent courts and faeries. They’re like weeds, they just keep coming back.”  
“Your troops are fighting to stop them, right? They’re monsters. They have to be stopped.” His mother hissed.  
“They’re not monsters, Eleina. They’re _grieving_. Grieving parents, siblings, partners. It doesn’t excuse their actions, but that’s what they all are, and why any outward attempts to stop their regime are so unpopular. We have our hands tied. The people would think we’re sympathizing with the Unseelie fae if we only now decree their actions as vile and start arresting the groups.”  
“But the king’s announcement. There was so much rejoicing. I thought most people hated the Rebels of the Setting Sun?”  
“Many do, but there’s even more that don’t. There are many who sympathize with the rebels, even within the guard. After all, the greater majority of them lost loved ones to the fight against the Unseelie. They’re going for vengeance. To right the deaths of their children and family. As much as most don’t want to acknowledge it or agree with it, it’s hard to deny that there’s a lot of sympathy for that sentiment.”  
“But surely, it’s wrong to support them after all the innocent blood they spilled and the damage they’ve caused? How could anyone support them with full conscience?”  
“Few would condone their actions. But given their mission, I also don’t think many are willing to protest their work. They aren’t hateful, so they think. To some citizens, they’re people giving payback for the pain they endured in losing their loved ones. I don’t agree, but many people do agree with them. We’re outnumbered and overpowered on the side unpopular to many.”

Silence fell. Sportacus’s stomach churned. The more he listened to his parents’ conversation, the more he felt that his world view was being lifted and shaken, rattled and mixed to the point of unrecognizability. What he felt was right, who he thought were the good guys and what made sense. Who he thought would truly fight for what seemed so clearly right. Gone in a single night. Replaced instead with a vision of his neighbors and acquaintances, thirsting for blood as they cheer for the elves that rip apart families like Circe’s. He stilled his gag reflex as he shooed away the thought.

“Íþró, what are they going to do to our son? T-They wouldn’t hurt him, would they? He’s too young, he wouldn’t…”  
A sigh.  
“That’s what’ll help him. He’s young. He’s young enough that I can make a case for him. Once I meet up with the captains in the morning, I’ll explain that our son got…emotional. Too attached and became confused.”  
“Will they believe that?” asked Eleina skeptically.  
“Sportacus is barely nine, they should believe that. As long as we follow up with a suitable punishment, they should accept my word. It helps that Sportacus didn’t attack any of the guards. That would’ve made it worse.”  
“But what would his punishment be?”  
Pause.  
“We’ll send him to stay with his Uncle Edward and Aunt Peggy for a while. A few months. At least until this whole incident blows over.”  
“Íþró, that’s too long! We can’t do that to him!”  
“Eleina, it’s either that, or our family gets labeled as faerie sympathizers. That could be dangerous. _Incredibly_ dangerous. All of us could become targets for the rebels and their allies. And with how many there are, it’s…it’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”  
Pause.  
“I know this won’t be easy, and maybe it isn’t a great solution, but it’s for the best. He’ll get over his anger soon enough, and things will go back to normal. A little time in the country might be good for him. Help him get his head straight and forget this ever happened.”  
“You really think so, Íþró?”  
“I know so.”

As his parents fell silent, Sportacus knew he’d heard enough.  
All that he’d heard, every word. It made him sick to the enth of his being.  
His home, the community around him, his parents’ friends and companions.  
If they heard about him defending his friend, an innocent girl, and protesting the unjust murder of her friends and family, they’d jump to brand _him_ and _his family_ as the monsters and scum.  
No one would side with him. Not his neighbors, his classmates, the guard, the king. Not even his own family.  
His friend was dead and to them, it was for the better.  
And it would be even better if, somehow, he could forget everything and go back to how he was before he met his friend.  
Even though that was impossible.  
Sniffling, he stood to his feet, his brow furrowed down as his attention turned towards his window.  
“ _I’m not staying in a place like this. I can’t. I can’t pretend this never happened, but I can’t let them hurt my family either._ ” Sportacus thought to himself, a flicker of sadness crossing his gaze. He looked back at the door, his thoughts turning towards his parents.  
If he went through with the plan he’d just cooked up, this meant never seeing his family again.  
It meant never being able to return home, he figured.  
He wiped a tear from his face and steeled his resolve.  
No, he would not stay in a place that so readily approved of the death of his friend.  
Carefully, he lifted the window up, feeling the gust of cool, evening air hit his face, carrying with it the scent of evergreens. Giving one last look towards his door and his bedroom, Sportacus leapt through the window and tumbled through the grass, rolling to a stop a few feet away. He stood, brushing off the dirt and grass off his pants, before he broke into a sprint.  
He didn’t know where he wanted to run to, but he at least knew where the boundary line for the elven kingdom sat. He knew at least he needed to escape the boundaries of the elven kingdom.  
His crystal bounced against his chest on its chain, emitting a low chime in his ears. He clasped it in his palm and ran faster, feeling the itchy rush of dry grass against his legs and seeing the leaping hops of grasshoppers and crickets that hastily escaped his clattering footsteps.

He kept running, despite his weariness, until his hometown was nothing but a collection of glittering dots in the horizon that faded with every step towards the oncoming hills.  
What laid ahead for him was unknown.  
But somehow, Sportacus had an inkling that whatever lied in his future, it was better than whatever he’d have faced in his home.

He ran for weeks, his feet aching and his body growing sore. He was hungry most of the time, as in his haste he’d neglected to pack any supplies that might’ve supplied his survival.  
He passed through countless fields, which gave way to dense forests full of foreign trees, meadows, and rivers. The smell of evergreen faded away with every day’s journey, until any trace of his homeland vanished from his senses. He continued ever forward, trying not to allow himself to miss his home, even as his feet cried out in protest and his body ached.  
At some point, in his exhaustion, he stopped and curled up by a foreign brook. With a cupped hand, he scooped up water and drank until he was quenched, before he fell into a restless sleep by the fast running waters, his sore body finally finding rest.  
In his sleepy state, he barely comprehended the figure approaching him. He understood that the figure bore a cloak, and was definitely neither human, elf, or faerie. With skin gray as concrete, and a pair of curved ears and clawed hands, he’d usually be able to immediately name what they were. But in his exhaustion, he couldn’t bother to even think.   
“Hello little one, you look very lost. What are you doing so far away from the elf kingdoms?” The stranger asked, their voice thick and raspy from smoke.  
Sportacus tried, truly tried, to lift his head and respond. But all that came forth was a near whisper, and a dry response.  
“Ran…can’t…” he said, his focus fading.  
The stranger gave a curt nod, before carefully and gently shifting Sportacus into a more comfortable position, cradling him in their arms as they brushed some messy strands from his face.  
“It’s alright dearie. You don’t need to tell Stump anything quite yet. You need some help, and I’ll give it to you. Just rest easy, and I’ll take you back to my home for some hearty chestnut stew. It’ll do just the trick for your needs.”  
Sportacus felt like he was in a dream, being taken care of by a mysterious stranger so unusually kind and warm.  
“How can…” he started, before another wave of exhaustion passed over him.  
“Ah ah, I won’t hear a word of it for now. Let’s focus on getting you better first, then we can talk about payment, though I feel it’s unnecessary.” Said Stump, laughing heartily.  
Sportacus made a short, distant sound before he shifted to make himself more comfortable.  
“But if you are insistent, perhaps we can talk about a potential job for you. You say you ran, yes? Well, an elf like yourself has quite a bit of magic, and I have been looking for an apprentice. Perhaps that sounds good? You becoming a witch’s apprentice?” asked Stump.

Despite his sleepiness, Sportacus mulled over the possibility. A witch. A group of magic users far removed from the politics of the magic council.  
It seemed perfect.  
“Yeah.” Sportacus said, his response punctuated by a yawn.  
Stump chuckled.  
“Perfect. We can start once you’re better and back to full strength. Until then, promise me you’ll take it easy.”  
Sportacus gave a small nod, his eyelids fluttering.  
“Promise.” He whispered, before he finally passed out.

 //

The image of the goblin witch cradling the young elf froze, and blinding white flooded Robbie’s eyes as the vision ended.

He squinted at the painful deluge of light, forcing his eyes shut to save his vision. He only dared to pry his eyes open again once the glowing light started to fade, allowing his vision hidden by his eyelids to transition from dulled red to familiar darkness. Once he’d opened his eyes, he realized that he no longer sat outside his old home. Instead, he sat deep in a sea of silver-blue grasses that swayed and rustled with the low, cool breeze. The midday, blue sky had been replaced by spans of dark night dotted with twinkling stars, clear and present in its full beauty.  
His attention drifted from the gorgeous night sky back to the faerie woman, who floated in the air, her wings beating lazily as she gently fell back to the ground. The blinding, blue light drained from her eyes, allowing her blue and brown irises to show once more.  
“You get the full picture now?” she asked, out of breath and breathing deeply.  
Robbie’s thoughts returned to what he’d just been forced to witness. He bit his lip and remained quiet, his mind mulling over the narrative. He looked up at the faerie, his fingers grasping large clumps of silver grass as he staid his words.  
Circe’s breathing finally smoothed out, her panting ceasing. In its place, however, returned her frustrated annoyance.  
“Well? Anything? Do you have anything to say? Or do? At all?” Circe said exasperatedly.  
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know that…that you and Sportacus…that _that_ was even a possibility.” Robbie admitted quietly.  
“Well, now you do.” Circe said, looking at Robbie expectantly. “Change anything for you?”  
Robbie didn’t respond, his eyes falling to his lap, bowing his head. His lips drew into a thin line, and he avoided making eye contact with the increasingly enraged faerie.

Circe stopped and stared at the man. Her lips curled into an angry scowl as she took a step towards him aggressively.  
“You’re kidding me?! That didn’t change _anything_?? You have nothing, _nothing at all_ , that might’ve changed or made things easier for you to understand? You learned _nothing new_ you could use at all?!” Circe said, her boiling rage coming to a peak.  
Robbie’s eyes shot up to the enraged faerie that glowered above him. He lowered his eyes.  
“No, I didn’t. Because that wasn’t the problem. That’s…that’s not what’s keeping me away, or what makes me want him to stay away.” Robbie said with a harsh tone.  
“Then why didn’t you say anything, you stupid noodle man?! I could’ve saved a lot of time by _not_ showing you a good chunk of my life’s story, or Sportacus’s. Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?” Circe asked tiredly.  
Robbie looked up at her pointedly.  
“You said it yourself. I didn’t think you’d get it. Hell, I didn’t think _anyone_ would get it. _You_ showed me all of that, because _you_ thought it would help. It helped, if only because I know now that you, out of everyone in this blasted town, might understand even a bit of how I feel. It didn’t help me, however, with my issue with Sportacus. And it’s certainly _not_ helping for you to yell at me and insult me.” Robbie said with a glare.

Circe shrank back, her expression melting as Robbie’s words finally sank in. She looked down at the faerie man, watching how his legs pulled in against his chest as his eyes turned up towards the stars, his gaze lost in thought.  
She sucked down a hard breath and sighed, gently shaking her head. She smoothed some hair away from her face.  
“I…you’re right. I shouldn’t have gotten mad. That’s probably not helping at all, is it?” She asked softly.  
Robbie only responded with a slight head shake.  
Circe, carefully, took a seat next to him, shifting her broad wings behind her back, joining him in staring up at the stars.  
“I’m sorry, Robbie. I know I shouldn’t have gotten mad, but…I’ll admit I still don’t fully understand what you’re feeling. I can understand to an extent, as a faerie and as someone who lost…well, a lot, to the elves. But your history is different. Maybe for me it was easy enough to get over my rage, but I have a different circumstance than you. Most of my last moments were beside my good friend, who’s an elf. Sportacus is the first elf you’ve seen since that night. We’re similar, but just different enough to be distinct.” Circe said, playing with her ribbon.  
Robbie didn’t answer.  
“If you’re still wanting to, Robbie, I want to know what’s keeping you from Sportacus. I worry about my witch, and I know he cares about you. Deeply. And it’s affecting him. And with his magic fizzling out, and his crystal acting strange ever since you healed it, something tells me you care about him still too.” Circe said, turning to Robbie.  
Robbie’s breath hitched.  
“Am I wrong?”  
After a moment, Robbie shook his head.  
“No, you’re not wrong. I care about him. A lot. I think about him, and I still…still like him.” He said, his eyes glistening.  
“Then what’s holding you back? Why not just make up with him and get things back to how they were?” Circe asked in a more patient tone.

Silence.

Then, a shuddered breath from Robbie.  
“Because…” He started, his eyes growing watery. He batted away a few tears from his eyes. “…because it’s not that simple.”  
He turned to Circe, looking her right in the eyes.  
“That night, the night that the elves destroyed my court. The only reason I survived. I _alone_ survived. It was because my parents sacrificed themselves. They let themselves be horribly killed just so I could get away.” He said, more tears escaping him. “Circe, I should’ve _died_ that night. But I didn’t, because of what my family did for me. And I can never repay them for that.”  
Circe’s face grew solemn as Robbie’s grew sadder.  
“What would they think, Circe, if I take what they gave me and betrayed them? What would they think if I just turned on them, just like that? Just put aside all the pain and hurt that ensued that night and fell for someone of the same people that caused…that _slaughtered_ them.” Robbie said, choking back a sob. He shook his head slowly. “It’d…it’d be like spitting on their _graves_ , Circe. I just…I can’t. I can’t do that to them. Not after everything.”   
Circe looked at Robbie, feeling her heart grow heavy as she took in the sight. Tears rolled down his face as he looked at her, eyes filled with grief and guilt. Failing to hold back his trembling, his hands absently travelled to his arms, in some vain hope to still their shaking. It was hard for her to see. Seeing the man, who at one point stood spitting venom and malice at her and her witch, who’d at one point wanted the both of them dead. Who’d grown close to her witch over several months. It was sad to see him look so _broken_. So sad. So distressed by something that had obviously weighed upon him heavily for decades. She could feel a lump grow in her throat.  
Words failed her. She fought for something, _anything_ to say. She looked away, drifting into her thoughts. She dug around her mind, looking for something that might help. She glanced over, seeing how Robbie buried his face into his legs, drawing himself into a ball. The remains of his wings drooped into the grass, pressing an indentation into the field.

She took a breath and sighed, giving a slow nod.

“Robbie, I…I can’t speak for your parents. Or your village. Heck, I can’t speak for anyone other than myself, really. And in the end, this is your life. You make your own decisions, and you pursue what you want to have and attain.” Circe started.  
Robbie looked up at her, his face a mess of streaked make-up and tears.  
“I don’t know what the right decision is for you. But I can tell you, at the least, what I think. That’s the most I can do.” Circe said, shifting a little closer to Robbie. Hesitantly, she laid a hand on his shoulder, in an almost comforting gesture.  
“That said, again, I can’t speak for your parents. I never knew them. _But_ , I know what I’d have said if I were your parents.” She said quietly.  
Robbie’s eyes drifted to his side.  
“As a parent, I imagine, the thing you want most is for your child to have the life that makes them happiest. You want them to prosper, and grow, and bloom. The good ones at least would, and I figure your parents were pretty great for you to miss them this badly.”  
Robbie sniffed.  
Circe’s lips drew into a thin line.  
“With that said, you said you feel like you can never repay your parents for what they gave. I don’t agree. I think you can, though not immediately.” Circe said, looking at the man with eyes that seemed too old for her form. “When they gave their lives, it was so you could live _yours_. That means living it to the fullest. Making friends. Growing. Learning. …And finding love.”  
Robbie stiffened.  
“To live your life, you need to actually _live your life_. That means finding who and what makes you happy. Whatever that means. No caveats.” Circe said. Her expression grew sadder as she said, “I think it’d be a greater disservice to your parents and loved ones if you chose to avoid living and falling in love just because you think they might disapprove. In the end, you live your own life and path. It’s not theirs to follow. Your parents didn’t die so that you could live your life in fear and without love. I think, even if there was danger, they’d want you to be happy and have the life you want.”  
Robbie lifted his head, his eyes dropping to the ground as he furrowed his brow. His hand clenched around the fabric of his pant leg.  
“Again, that’s just what _I_ think. In the end, it’s up to you. You need to do whatever makes you happy and what feels right for you.” Circe said. She looked at him quietly. “Do you think you know what that is?”  
Robbie’s mouth parted only slightly, before he stopped.  
Then, he shook his head slightly.  
“I…I still need to think.” He said softly.  
Circe nodded.  
“Alright. If that’s what you need, then okay.” She said, as she stood to her feet. Turning, she began to slowly walk away.  
Sniffling, Robbie looked up with a confused expression.  
“Where are you going?”

Circe stopped and turned.  
“I promised Sportacus that I wouldn’t stay out all night. I need to wake up and get back to him before he realizes I haven’t come back yet.” She said, gesturing to a space in the grass.  
Robbie raised an eyebrow before slowly lifting himself upright. Cautiously, he crept towards where Circe gestured, freezing at the sight.  
Sleeping peacefully in the grasses, the silver grass framing his golden locks, laid Sportacus. He was curled up, fetal position, in the fields, slumbering quietly.  
Robbie’s body untensed as he watched the elf momentarily. He gave a perplexed glance at the other faerie.  
“Well, how else could I show you his memories too? Need him to be nearby to do that.” Circe said with a shrug.  
Robbie’s eyes drifted back to the sleeping elf. He couldn’t help but watch. He noted just how peaceful and calm the elf looked, contrasting with the distress he’d last seen on the elf’s face. The memory pained him, and he remembered the day in the forest as he winced.  
“Circe?”  
Circe paused.  
“Before you go, if I do decide that…that I want to be friends again with him, do you think he’ll forgive me? I…reacted pretty badly back in the forest.” Robbie said.  
Circe gave him a sympathetic look.  
“He’s pretty understanding; I bet he will. That dork is forgiving to a fault, even when he shouldn’t.”  
“You really think so?”  
Circe let a half-smile escape her. “I think I’ve known him long enough to say I know so.”  
A small smile appeared on Robbie’s face before he looked back towards Sportacus, his eyes widening once he saw that he was gone. Looking up, he realized he wasn’t in the silver fields any more. He stood once more in the bright green fields of his court, the warm summer air blowing again. He turned about, looking around his surroundings. Circe was gone.

Stopping, his thoughts continued their normal course, leaving him cluttered with what-ifs and maybes for him to sort through. Faerie children continued to fly through the air with kites as faerie guards waved to them. The aroma of spiced foods wafted through the air, and faerie maidens strolled through the fields towards the woods, heading out for their weekly foraging trips.  
Sinking back into his spot in the grasses, Robbie stared out at the scene once more, lost in his thoughts and all together not paying attention to the scene of his past life unfurling in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I COME WITH ANGST AND SLIGHTLY NICER ENDING
> 
> This half of the chapter was pretty tricky, if only to try and make certain characters not into jerks and irredeemable. Hopefully this is good. If you have any questions about the chapter, please feel free to ask in the comments!
> 
> Only two chapters left of the story, we're getting close to the end! Next chapter may be a bit as things are getting busy over here. Thank you for your patience!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	21. Skyward

It had probably been decades since the old airfield had seen the traffic and crowds that currently stood on its dilapidated runway. The sight of dozens of people, many in their Sunday best, wading through the seas of golden grasses was a mite odd, yet the grins on their faces cemented the fact that, yes, this was very much where they wanted to be, appearances be damned.  
Several of the school children laughed and played through the tall grasses, rolling across dirt and scaring up grasshoppers and dragonflies into the hazy air. A few of the less fortunate children were tugged away by the ear by their less than pleased mothers, who scolded them terribly for getting their nice, formal clothes messy.  
Neil and Jives stood near an old, but handsome pushcart that they’d filled to the brim with breads, sandwiches and pastries, carefully exchanging the money they were given for their wares. Neil gave a pleased look towards his son, parting only momentarily to check on Lyla, who stood nearby chatting it up with Evie and Kaya.  
Standing near the front of the crowd, their hands nervously grazing against each other, Trixie and Stephanie waited with tense excitement.  
“So your uncle is really going to do it? Do they know if it’ll even fly?” Trixie asked in a hushed tone, gesturing to the plane that sat poorly hidden under a tarp.  
Stephanie gave a nod.   
“Uncle’s been waiting for this for months. I don’t think he’d back out now, not unless something was seriously wrong.” Stephanie said, giving a worried look at the plane.  
Trixie gently squeezed her hand.  
“Ya aren’t nervous, are you?”  
Stephanie gave a strained look to Trixie.  
“Well…I might be a little.”  
Trixie shrugged and grinned.  
“Eh, he’ll be fine. Bet as soon as they get the plane off the ground, you’ll be too excited to even _think_ about worrying.”  
“You think so?”  
Trixie pulled up Stephanie’s hand and laid a chaste kiss against its top.  
“Sure as sure can be.”  
Stephanie flushed a pink color, a silly grin crossing her face. She giggled, and Trixie soon joined in, the two nudging closer together.

“Am I interrupting something?”  
A rough voice cut through the moment and sent the two jumping away from each other, though Stephanie was much more panicked than Trixie.  
Trixie pouted.  
“No, I guess you’re not, _Dad_.” She said with a huff, though she hid as smile as she did.  
Jackson shrugged.  
“Well, long as I’m not interrupting anything, thought I’d make sure you got this.” He said, pulling out a five-dollar bill and handing it to his daughter.  
Trixie raised an eyebrow.  
“I’ve got money already; why you giving me more?”  
Jackson gave his daughter a look.  
“I figured I’d raised you well enough to know that if you’re out with your special someone, you treat them well. That means making sure that if you get a snack, they get one too. And I know that you only had one five in your piggy bank.” He said quietly.  
Trixie blushed an embarrassed pink.  
“Oh, right. I knew that.”  
Jackson smiled and ruffled her hair.  
“Sure you did, kiddo. If you need anything else, let me know.” He said. As he turned, he stopped and gave a curt nod to Stephanie.  
“Good day, Ms. Meanswell.”  
“G-Good day, Mr. Troubleby.” Said Stephanie, who only now managed to break her silence.  
With that, Jackson walked away, melting into the crowd of people.  
Trixie tugged on Stephanie’s hand.  
“Come on! I bet if we hurry, we could get some ice pops!” she said, before stopping. A worried expression crossed her face as she noticed how pale her girlfriend had gotten. “Stephanie? You okay?”  
Stephanie blinked and shook her head.  
“Y-Yeah. Just…I know your dad is okay with us and all, but he sure is intimidating still.” She said.  
Trixie shrugged.  
“I think ‘intimidating’ is just his default. You’ll get used to it I’m sure.”  
“And you’re _sure_ he’s fine with us?” Stephanie asked nervously.  
Trixie smirked and kissed her cheek, turning Stephanie’s pink to red.  
“Don’t think he’d give me a five-dollar bill if not.” Trixie noted with a grin. “Now come on! If we hurry, we’ll get an ice pop and get back in time to grab our spot again!”  
Stephanie, feeling less nervous, smiled once more and skipped after her girlfriend.

Meanwhile, over near the stage, Mayor Meanswell fussed once more with the streamers attached to the platform. A worried crease had built itself on his face, and he shook his head as he straightened the same ribbon a sixth time.  
Ms. Busybody, who’d been distracted with attending to a few reporters from the local paper, stopped her conversation as she finally noticed how fervently the mayor fussed with the minute details. Giving the reporters a wink and a wave, she strolled over behind Mayor Meanswell, wrapping her arms around him.  
“Milford, sweetie, you look stressed.” She said soothingly, her hands moving up to his shoulders to knead out the taut tension.  
Mayor Meanswell gave a frustrated hum, even as he gave into the well-needed massage.  
“Well, yes, I suppose I am. I just want to make sure things are as perfect as can be!”  
“I know, I know. This is a big day for you, isn’t it?” She purred.  
Mayor Meanswell gave her a look.  
“No offense, Ms. Busybody, but that’s a slight understatement. It might be the biggest day of my entire life! Sure, I’ve flown plenty of planes in my life, but _never_ one made by myself and an assistant!” His eyes widened. “So much could go wrong, and I’m not ready to consider that!”  
“Oh, Milford,” Ms. Busybody said with a tsk. “I think you’re worrying a little too much. I and everyone else knows how much work you’ve put into this airplane. You’ve got everything settled by you and Pixel’s standards down to the bolt!”  
“Except for parts of the engine.” Mayor Meanswell mumbled glumly.  
“Which was for the better. You’ve been stressed enough with the repair work for the town park. No need to get more tense than you already are.” Ms. Busybody said, kneading the mayor’s shoulders with more pressure.  
The Mayor cringed; he never liked deep tissue massages.  
“Take a deep breath with me.” She said.  
“Please, Bessie…” He sighed.  
“That’s not a request, Milford. Breathe in.” She said, audibly sucking in a breath.  
Reluctantly, Mayor Meanswell followed her example.  
“Hold it, then exhale.” Ms. Busybody said quietly, as she slowly exhaled.  
Mayor Meanswell closed his eyes as he exhaled.  
Ms. Busybody smiled.  
“Better?”  
Mayor Meanswell nodded, opening his eyes and shooting her a thankful smile.  
“Yes, I’d say so! Thank you, Bessie.”  
Ms. Busybody leaned in and gave him a kiss, stroking the back of his head.  
“Now, you better get going! You need to address everyone, and Sportacus and Pixel are up there waiting for you.” Ms. Busybody said, kissing him one last time on the top of his head.  
Mayor Meanswell’s eyes widened.  
“Oh my! You’re right! Well, I’m off then!” he said, straightening his bomber jacket before striding up the stage, Ms. Busybody taking her place in the front of the crowd.

Mayor Meanswell took his place in front of the podium, adjusting the microphone stand as he did, tapping the top to make sure the sound was on. The feedback confirmed his query, a bass-y tapping sound echoing through the crowd. He gave it an affirmed nod, before looking towards Sportacus. The witch seemed momentarily distracted, his eyes turned to the crowd.  
“Sportacus, are you ready to begin?” asked Mayor Meanswell.  
Sportacus seemed startled, as when he looked at the Mayor, his pupils were slightly shrunken.  
“O-Oh, yeah! I’m ready whenever you’re ready, Mayor Meanswell.” He said with a smile.  
Mayor Meanswell, deciding not to press his concern, gave a nod before looking back at the crowd. He smiled, and cleared his throat.  
“Welcome, LazyTown citizens! I’m so thrilled to welcome you all to the first ever christening of a LazyTown airplane, and the first aviation vehicle constructed by an senior-junior team!” He announced happily.  
The crowd cheered and clapped their hands excitedly.  
“This truly has been an amazing undertaking. It’s been a true honor to work with such a rising intellect and talent as our very own Pixel Hyperbyte.” The Mayor said.  
Pixel looked sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head.  
“With that said, I turn the microphone to Pixel!” The Mayor said, clapping.  
Pixel gave a shy wave as he walked up to the podium, his waving growing surer as he spotted his friends in the front.  
Adjusting the microphone, Pixel grinned at the crowd.  
“Hello, everyone! Um, it’s a real honor to be up here.” He started, his voice quivering. “I just, wow. This has been such a _great_ experience. It’s been my dream since I was little to work on airplanes.”  
Kaya and Evie smiled and nodded to each other.  
“So, to be able to be a part of this project, long before college? It’s been, well, like wow.” He said, his voice growing quiet.  
The crowd softly chuckled.  
His face turning pink, Pixel gave a half smile.  
“Um, but what are we waiting for? Let’s get this party started!” Pixel said cheerily.  
The crowd cheered, popping firecrackers and waving hands.

Mayor Meanswell progressed towards the plane as Pixel followed him, stopping in front of Sportacus.  
“Gee, I’m really sorry your broom wasn’t ready for today. It would’ve been cool for you to fly with us!” He said.  
Sportacus chuckled and ruffled his hair.  
“Well, maybe next time then? We can do some aerial tricks once you both get the hang of flying.”  
Pixel beamed.  
“Hey, yeah! That’d be great!” He said excitedly.  
“Pixel! Are you ready?” called the Mayor.  
Pixel nodded, then gave a salute to Sportacus.  
“Well, to the air I go!” he said with a laugh, before he sprinted towards the plane, Sportacus watching with an attentive eye.  
Mayor Meanswell, at the moment, was addressing the three individuals who were completing last minute preparations for the plane.  
“Now gentlemen, I assume that the engine is completely ready for take-off?” He asked patiently.  
One of the men, wearing a purple beanie over his head, stood tall over the mayor.  
“Uh, yeah. Completely.”  
A second one, with an orange beanie, piped up next.  
“Absolutely. One-hundred percent sure.”  
The third one, wearing a yellow beanie, chimed in.  
“Positive! Mayhem Town guaranteed!”  
This earned him a whack across the back of his head from the first one.  
“Ow…” he muttered.  
Mayor Meanswell looked uneasily at the men.  
“What was that he just said?”  
The first man smiled a toothy grin.  
“Ah, nothing. Shorty here just likes to fool. Your plane is as ready as ever for take-off!” he said sweetly.  
Mayor Meanswell smiled.  
“Oh, wonderful! Thank you, gentlemen, for all your hard work!” he praised.  
The first one coughed into his fist, holding out an expectant hand.  
Mayor Meanswell’s face fell slightly.  
“Ah, of course. Well, here’s your fair payment.” He said, handing a stack of bills to the first man.  
The three gathered around, eagerly flipping through each bill and counting their bounty.  
The second man tipped his beanie to the mayor.  
“Pleasure doing business with ya!” he said, before the three slunk away and into the crowd.

The Mayor stepped up the ladder and swung his leg over the plane’s side, sliding with a grunt or so into the cockpit. He situated himself, pulling the seatbelt taught over his chest and pulling at his jacket. Ms. Busybody stood nearby, ready to pull away the ladders as soon as both pilots were ready.  
Mayor Meanswell could hear the seat behind him squeak as Pixel hopped into his position excitedly, pulling a pair of aviation goggles over his eyes. The Mayor looked back, a smile crossing his face as he saw how the youth beamed.  
“Are you ready, Pixel?” he asked.  
Pixel grinned.  
“More than ready! Let’s get up in the air!” he said, throwing his seatbelt over himself.  
The Mayor laughed and gave Ms. Busybody thumbs up.  
Ms. Busybody and Stephanie hurried over, pulled away the ladders and chocks, set them to the side, and made a hasty retreat to the safety of the sidelines.  
Sliding the goggles over his eyes, Mayor Meanswell slowly applied pressure to the throttle knob, keeping a firm grip on the rudder with his other hand. With a sputter and a groan, the propeller whirred to life, beginning a steady rotation that started slow, but was soon slicing through the air with a rhythmic hum, the illusion of a solid disc of yellow formed by the rapidly spinning blades.  
The crowd grew louder, partly to combat the rising noise from the airplane, partly as their excitement grew and peaked. Sportacus stood off to the side, a hand on his head to secure his cap in place.  
Mayor Meanswell continued to push on the throttle, quickening the speed of the spinning propeller and raising the volume of the prop’s hum. The propeller’s energy soon started the plane rolling, its wheels spinning slowly down the runway, all the while the Mayor continued to increase the power.  
“Mayor, you think we’re ready for liftoff?” asked Pixel, yelling over the din.  
The Mayor nodded.  
“I would say so! Hold on Pixel, we’re about to be airborne!” Mayor Meanswell said.  
And with that, as soon as he directed the plane back down the runway, Mayor Meanswell gunned the throttle and began gradually pulling back on the yoke.  
With a roaring hum, the plane rolled down the dilapidated runway, kicking up small pebbles and clouds of dirt in its path. The crowd took a step back, shielding their faces from the flying debris and the wind drafting from the plane.  
“Here we go!” warned the Mayor, as he pulled back farther on the yoke.  
There was a moment of fear in Pixel’s heart, a fear that perhaps their plane wouldn’t fly. That maybe they’d made a silly looking car with a fan for a nose. That they’d just roll off the runway with no air time to show for their efforts.  
Those fears were short-lived, however, as he soon felt the pressure pitch against his chest, pressing him back against his seat as the plane’s wheels left the ground, the crumbling and rattling sound vanishing.  
Elation was all that could describe what Pixel and Mayor Meanswell felt as the push back of the plane’s ascent settled like a weight against their chests, the air rushing past their faces. Pixel looked around, seeing the span of blue that they currently were soaring towards. He looked down at the ground, spotting his friends, now growing tinier as they climbed upwards.

Down on the ground, the crowd erupted into raucous cheers and applause. A few citizens set off firecrackers that popped and fizzed with bright colors. Little banners with LazyTown’s crest were waved wildly by enthusiastic children who leapt about and spun in circles, their arms extended like a plane’s wings. Several people waved up at the plane, hoping for either pilot to wave back.  
“Way to go, Pixel!” Stephanie shouted.  
“Try to touch the clouds! See if they feel like cotton candy!” yelled Ziggy.  
“Ziggy, they won’t feel like cotton candy!” said Stingy.  
Ziggy gave him a look. “Well how would YOU know? You’ve never flown in a plane before!”  
“I so have!” Stingy said defiantly. The “just not one like that” was left unsaid.  
Back up in the air, the Mayor looked away only momentarily to give a giddy grin to his co-pilot.  
“We did it Pixel! The plane is really flying! We’ve done it!” The Mayor said cheerily.  
Pixel, still gawking at the sights around him, could only laugh with wonder and excitement.  
“T-This is unreal! We’re actually flying! In a plane we built ourselves!” Pixel said joyously.  
The Mayor turned back to his controls and, in a moment of sheer glee, he redirected the plane straight up. Taking deft control of the yoke and rudder, he pulled around and spun the plane in a corkscrew fashion, completing a single loop in the air that carved around a low-floating cloud. The cloud’s wisps were pulled and torn, leaving the once fluffy sphere a more tapered, stringy mess.  
The crowd oo’ed and gasped in awe.  
The Mayor yanked the yoke to the side, steering the plane into a barrel roll that sent Pixel’s head spinning.  
“Was that too much, Pixel? Are you still okay back there?” shouted the Mayor.  
Pixel made a confirming sound.  
“I’m fine! A little dizzy, but fine!” he responded.  
“Keep breathing during the rolls Pixel, and you should be fine!” said the Mayor, righting the plane.

The crowd below continued to cheer, hoop, and holler. Sportacus watched with an unwavering grin, filled with awe at the sheer engineering artistry that spun and flipped in the air above him. It was almost like magic, in a way. He gasped as the plane ducked into another flip, skirting above the crowds, sending the townsfolk into a louder fervor. The plane shot back up, bursting through a fluffy cumulus cloud and leaving a hole in its wake.

Away from the crowds, away from the noise and the spectacle, the three mechanics walked along casually and munched on the snacks and treats they bought from the stands.  
“So, can’t believe that mayor guy actually contracted us to build part of his plane.” Said the second man, his voice muffled by a mouthful of popcorn.  
The first man laughed.  
“I know! I mean, he didn’t ask for qualifications or nothing! You know how to build a plane?” He said, looking at the third one.  
The third man took a large bite from his candied apple and shrugged.  
“Nah, but how hard could it be? Just some glue and a few screws. Thing stays together enough.”  
The first man gave him a hard look.  
“How much enough?”  
The third man gave a knowing smirk.  
“Enough to give us time to beat it out of town before that plane’s engine goes kaput.”  
The second man looked distinctly uneasy.  
“Guys…I feel really bad. I mean, there’s a _kid_ on that plane. That wasn’t part of the deal, you know?”  
The first man slapped him on the back.  
“You’ll get over it. Besides, it was his parents that let him fly in a plane constructed by a non-engineer and people like us. Their own fault. Nothing on us. Now let’s vamoose.” He said, ushering the other towards the road out of town, tossing two packs over his shoulder.  
The second man glanced at the first man’s back.  
“Uh, what’cha got there? I don’t remember you having two backpacks when we arrived.”  
The first man shot him a glare.  
“What are you, some sort of investigator? I just took these two packs they had inside the plane. Could be valuable. Now let’s go.”  
The second man gave one last concerned look back towards the crowds before ducking away with his cohorts towards the one road out of town.

Back up in the air, the rhythmic humming and whirring of the propeller was broken by a clunking and chattering noise, a rumbling din of metal crashing against metal, like ball bearings in a washing machine.  
The joy and elation that the mayor felt halted in that moment. Instead, a crashing wave of unsettling and unnerving tension sat in his chest and heart. His arms stiffened, and he leaned forward, as if shifting in his seat would allow him a better idea of what the disconcerting sound could be.  
This shift in tone was not lost on Pixel, whose smile quickly evaporated.  
“Mayor Meanswell? What’s wrong?” he asked.  
Mayor Meanswell quickly shot the youth a shaky smile.  
“Um, nothing too bad I imagine! Probably just the engine having a few conniptions, so nothing too serious.” Mayor Meanswell fumbled, as he started leaning up towards the front of the plane.  
As if to immediately prove him wrong, Mayor Meanswell was sent tumbling back into his seat as a short blast shook the plane, sending a small stream of grayish black smoke curling up from the side of the plane. Pixel’s eyes shot open wide, and he gripped the sides of the plane’s body.  
“M-Mayor? I think that might be something serious!” He said fearfully, his eyes focused on the billowing stream of smoke. He heard something rattle and, with a sharp whine, clatter against the bottom of the plane. Pixel leaned out far enough to see something circular and black fall towards the ground.  
The realization of just _what_ fell from the plane made Pixel’s heart stop.  
The mayor sputtered, and felt the blood drain from his face. The plane shuddered, and a rattling sound split through the air, drowning out the drone of the propeller.

Down on the ground, the nervous mutterings and fearful shouts of the increasingly distressed bystanders quickly replaced the raucous cheers and cries of the townsfolk.  
“Ms. Busybody, I see smoke coming from the engine!” yelled Stingy, pointing towards the nose of the plane.  
Ms. Busybody gasped as she squinted at the plane.  
“Oh my goodness, you’re right! Something’s seriously gone wrong!” she said worriedly.  
Stephanie’s face had already grown a pale shade of white, her eyes growing wider with every passing second.  
“Uncle…” She said in horror, her voice near silent. The world was barely a blur around her, and the noise grew distant as she could only feel helpless, watching her uncle’s plane sputter and smoke.  
Sportacus saw the girl’s distress, his eyes darting back and forth from her to the sky, noticing the smoke grow thicker and darker. Another boom echoed through the air, and the plane groaned as the mayor pulled it back up into the sky.  
They hadn’t pulled their parachutes yet.  
Sportacus frowned. There wasn’t something wrong with just the plane.  
And he needed to get up there as soon as possible.  
But without his broom…  
He looked around, searching for anything that might help him up into the air, his attention finally fixing upon a lone street cleaner, who had already started his work of sweeping up discarded confetti and popsicle sticks.  
Wasting no time, Sportacus sprinted over and tapped the man’s shoulder.  
“I need to borrow your broom.” Sportacus said, forgetting his formalities.  
The janitor, looking horribly confused, only stared for a moment.  
“Um, what? Did you just – “he started.  
Sportacus, growing more anxious, snatched the broom from the janitor’s hand and turned back towards the fields.  
“I’m sorry! I’ll give it back to you, I just need it to reach them!” Sportacus hurriedly explained.  
The janitor could only stare in disbelief, forced silent by the strange request and reasoning.

Sportacus stopped a few feet away from the crowd and immediately straddled the push broom, quickly noticing the awkward weight distribution of this particular broom. The rectangular bristle style, in comparison to his old broom, made the whole apparatus very back heavy. This was worrisome to Sportacus, who already knew it’d be difficult to coax a non-magic broom to fly even with if his magic was at full power, since even if he got it in the air there was no telling how easy it’d be to maneuver.  
Still, given how little time he had, he’d have to try.  
Gripping the broom between his hands, he thought back to his early days of broom flight training. He remembered how his mentor, Stump, urged him to think of light and fluffy thoughts. Things that made him happy and want to laugh. That if you kept those thoughts in the forefront of your mind, flying was a breeze.  
Taking in a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind.  
He tried to think of the things that made him happy.  
The smell of clean linens fluttering in the summer breeze.  
The crisp crunch of freshly fallen snow under his feet.  
The cool wind that flowed through his hair as he flew up past the clouds.  
Those relaxed days spent near the riverside, where he fished for toads and trout.  
Those afternoons he spent in Robbie’s workshop, sitting by while the man finished his commissions and projects.  
Sportacus shook his head. He couldn’t think of that last one. Just needed to focus on the former memories.  
Casting aside thoughts of the faerie, he kept those lovely and peaceful memories in his mind and, with a sharp exhale, he pushed forward and up into the air with a hopped skip.  
Briefly, he could feel the familiar stillness of the air as he hovered for a split second.  
But it ended as soon as it came, and the free feeling of floating was replaced with the harsh sensation of knees crashing against dirt and grass, and the broom handle painfully digging into his chest, the grass rustling as he tumbled forward.  
Pulling himself up, collecting himself and stilling the shivers of his body responding to the rough landing, he shakily dragged the broom back towards him. He settled himself over the handle once more and forced himself to think of happy thoughts once more. Summer breeze. Clean linens. Fresh snow. Toads and trout.  
Clicking his heels, he leapt up once more, this time achieving some shallow altitude.  
But once more, he came crashing down, barely saving himself from clocking his chin against the ground with his arm, the broom clattering a few inches to his right.

With a quiver and a shake, Sportacus pulled himself back onto his knees, taking in shaky breaths as his eyes shot back and forth from the discarded broom to back up to the sky, where the plane continued to groan and spill noxious smoke into the air, staining the blue-sky gray. He could see a pair of arms waving frantically to anyone on the ground, and faintly he could hear the sounds of someone shouting.  
Sportacus felt his frustration grow, merging with his breathing growing more shallow and audible. His attention turned down to the broom, laying there idly in the grasses. It was almost mocking in its presence; it gave Sportacus a chance to possibly save the day and help those who needed him, but due to its lacking magic core, its awkward weight distribution, and his own failing magic, said chance was held miles away from him with a taunting sneer.  
And, for the first time in quite some time, Sportacus felt something burn within him.  
It manifested in a harsh glare that he directed towards the broom, his teeth gritting harshly.  
“Why must you be so difficult?! Don’t you know that I need to help them? Don’t you know that their lives are in danger?? Why can’t you listen just this once?!” He said, his voice shaking.  
The broom, of course, offered no answer.  
Sportacus felt his eyes water, and a few thin trails of tears rolled down his cheeks. It’d been years since he felt this way, but once again he felt utterly useless. His hands clenched around the edges of his uniform, bunching up the fabric in his fists. He looked up with watery eyes at the plane, his heart beating in his ears. He couldn’t just sit here and do nothing, but there was so little he could do right now. He felt strapped to the earth, forced to watch as the plane continued to spin and turn, the mayor clearly doing all that he could to keep the plane from divebombing into the sea of golden grass.  
Sportacus choked back a sob, feeling the churning mixture of sadness and frustration mix and bubble within his chest, emerging in a repressive feeling of helplessness. He knew that sitting there doing nothing but crying was being less than productive. But at that moment, it was all he could do. It was like he was paralyzed.

Several feet away, Ziggy’s attention was yanked away from the careening plane, falling instead to the witch who sat kneeling in the golden fields. He immediately felt concern, watching how long the witch simply sat there, not moving or attempting to fly on the push broom, even as the plane spun further out of control.  
Even from that distance, Ziggy could’ve sworn he saw the witch’s head dip low.  
Glancing at the adults that towered around him, Ziggy’s lips drew into a thin line and he stepped away from the crowd.  
Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted out towards the fields.  
“Sportacus! Don’t give up! I believe in you!”  
Sportacus stopped, his body tensing. Wiping away a few tears, he looked back at the townsfolk.  
Trixie was next to step up.  
“Yeah Sportacus! You’ve got this!”  
Stingy soon joined the two other kids, and he was soon joined by the other school kids.  
“Sportacus! Never give up!” they cheered.  
The adults, who finally drew their attention way, noticed how the witch sat in the field and stepped alongside the cheering children, looking out with bright smiles and supportive glances.  
“Sportacus, keep on trying!” called Neil.  
“It’s okay dearie, we know you’ll get it!” Ms. Busybody reassured.  
“Give it another go!” cried Evie and Kaya.  
“If anyone can do it, it’s you!” yelled Jackson.  
The individual cries soon melted into a crowded blend of cheers and support that rang out from the masses of townsfolk. Those who still held a few leftover firecrackers set them off, filling the air with flashes of light and streams of confetti. The janitor stood by, shaking his head at the growing mess, though still offered thumbs up to Sportacus for support.

Sportacus could feel the unease and feelings of helplessness cease. His mind grew clearer, and as he stood back up he brushed aside the trails of tears. He looked back at the townsfolk and gave them a weak smile and a wave. Their cheers grew louder.  
Amongst the din of cheers and the still present stuttering of the plane above, Sportacus’s attention was drawn by the sound of a whining ring that sent waves of chilling energy through his body.  
He looked down at his chest, eying the crystal that still sat in his pocket. Plucking it out, he rolled the small orb in his hand, watching how it pulsed blue and purple in intermittent sequence.  
Sighing, he held the crystal to his face, giving it a patient yet stern look.  
“Crystal, I understand that things have been rough lately. I know that your magic’s been disrupted by how Robbie fixed you. I know that whatever’s happening on his end is affecting your power, but I need you to listen to me now.” He said in a hushed tone.  
The crystal rang a little softer, as if confirming its attentiveness.  
“The mayor and Pixel needs us. I need my magic back so I can help them. Somehow, I need you to try and fight off the influence of Robbie’s magic. Just long enough to get them both to safety. After we get that settled, we can figure out how to solve the whole magic issue. Does that sound good?”  
The crystal laid silent.  
Sportacus’s sternness fell and was replaced by a pleading glance.  
“Please. Please say yes.” He begged.  
Silence.  
Then, for a brief second, the crystal flashed a bright blue. The sound it uttered sounded strained and less musical, but nonetheless Sportacus felt a surge of his usual energy.  
A relieved smile crossed his face.  
“Thank you.” He whispered, before stuffing the crystal back into his pocket. Lunging down, he pulled the broom back into his grip and straddled it once more. He directed his eyes up towards the sky, and took a deep breath once more.  
Clean linens. Fresh snow. Toad and trout. Night winds.  
“Up broom.” He muttered quietly.

With a groan and a sputter of protest, the push broom slowly shifted up into the air, shaking and trembling as Sportacus’s magic flooded its dead core. Sportacus could feel the apparatus bend and tip, the weight of its bristles throwing off his balance.  
It was imperfect, but it was airborne. And that’s all that Sportacus needed.  
With a half-smile, Sportacus clicked his heels together.  
“Up!” he urged once more.  
Like a bullet, the broom shot straight upwards, pulling a shocked and strangled yelp from Sportacus.  
The townsfolk, originally relieved and elated at the witch’s success, were left rather confused and worried about the erratic flight pattern.  
“Is…is the broom supposed to fly straight up like that?” Ms. Busybody asked.  
“I don’t think he has much control over that right now.” Neil said doubtfully.  
The crowd gasped as the broom suddenly dropped several feet from the air, before Sportacus seemed to shakily regain control, swerving the broom back up to its original elevation.  
“So, should we get a tarp ready to catch him in case he crashes, or not?” said Stingy under his breath.  
Trixie shot the boy a look and elbowed his side.

Back up in the air, Sportacus grunted and yanked at the broom handle.  
“Come on, you stubborn thing! We need to go this way!” He said, trying to redirect the broom towards the spinning plane.  
The broom groaned in response, dropping half a foot before it slowly puttered towards the plane’s flight path.  
Sportacus, sighing in partial relief, slipped his goggles over his eyes and, tentatively, clicked his heels again. The broom shot forward like a bolt of lightning, and it took everything in Sportacus to fight the urge to scream.  
He now understood why witches’ brooms had to specially built. If he could avoid it, he’d never touch a normal, non-enchanted broom again for the rest of his life, if all were as temperamental as this one was.  
Eventually, Sportacus forced the broom under some form of control. At least, to the point that the broom no longer dropped suddenly from the air or shot off like a bullet in a random direction. While it still quivered and shook, he at least got it directed towards and behind the careening plane, following it several feet behind. Sportacus leaned forward, bracing against the handle and kicking his heels once more, the broom rushing forward with a protesting moan.  
Pixel, looking around fearfully at the span of blue, finally looked behind him and spotted the rapidly approaching witch.  
“Sportacus! Help! The engine’s going crazy, and the Mayor can’t land the plane!” he shouted.  
“Why not??” Sportacus yelled.  
“The landing gear fell off! Without them, we’ll crash straight into the runway! We’d jump, but the parachutes are missing!” responded Pixel, his face growing increasingly gray with worry as another short boom rattled the plane’s body, this time sending a piece of sheet metal crashing down the side of the plane, Pixel only narrowly missing being clocked by ducking backwards.  
Biting his lip, Sportacus kicked his heels once more, increasing his speed to hopefully fly right alongside the plane.  
“Pixel! Hold on! I need to pull the plane up! We’re heading right towards the town center!” cried the Mayor.  
Pixel gasped, his attention fixed on the rapidly approaching buildings.  
Sportacus gritted his teeth and kicked his heels again, the broom nearly buckling as it rushed along the side of the plane.

On the ground, Robbie strolled along at a deliberately slow pace, his feet scuffling against the pavement as he walked.  
He cleared his throat.  
“Hello Sportacus. Long time no see. I, uh, see you’re doing well.” Robbie said with a forced smile. The smile faded, and he shook his head. “No, too casual.”  
He tapped his cheek before starting again.  
“Hey, um, friend…I happened to be in the neighborhood and thought, ‘hey, you know what Sportacus hasn’t had for a while? Fresh flowers to snack on!’” He said with a laugh, lifting up the bouquet of daisies and violets. “You did say you like to munch on them…when you’re feeling stressed…” Robbie said, his voice dying out.  
He stopped in his path, and threw a more disgusted look towards the bouquet.  
“Dang it, why didn’t I remember that? Stupid, stupid…” he muttered, resisting the urge to throw the bouquet against the ground. No use wasting something that cost him twenty bucks.  
He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, scrunching his nose as the product stuck to his skin, leaving a sticky film. He closed his eyes, thinking feverishly.  
“Sportacus,” He started once more. “I know that these last few weeks have been weird for the both of us. And…I’m sorry. I reacted really badly in that forest. Heck, that’s the understatement of the century.” He said, a weak smirk crossing his face. “But…it’s no excuse, but I guess I’m only now coming to terms with a lot of stuff that I need to work through. And, as sappy as it sounds, I was hoping to work through them with you. Because, I – “  
Before he could finish his thought, something bright red and _smoking_ sliced through the air and careened mere feet above the rooftops, disturbing leaves and newspapers up into mini tornadoes of debris. Robbie clutched the bouquet against his chest and froze in place, his eyes trailing back up to the strange flying object that just rocketed at a dangerously low height above the sleepy town.  
It was only after a hard look that it registered in his brain that the flying object was a plane. A plane that was currently smoking with the starts of a fire.  
And that there was something flying alongside that plane.  
A certain something dressed in blue.  
The bouquet fell from Robbie’s hands into a crumpled pile on the sidewalk as his mouth dropped open.  
“Shit.” Robbie muttered, forgetting himself, as he immediately ran after the plane, his chest hurting as he sped along.

Sportacus finally caught up along Pixel’s part of the plane, the wind whistling in his ears and stinging his skin as he inched closer to the plane, extending a hand towards the youth.  
“Pixel! Grab my hand!” He urged.  
Pixel looked back at the mayor, who was currently wrestling with the controls.  
“Pixel, go! I’ll be okay!” He said.  
“But Mayor -!” Pixel began.  
“No buts! Get yourself to safety!” Mayor Meanswell said seriously, coughing as the smoke curled and curved into his life of vision.  
Pixel looked uneasily at the mayor, but nonetheless gave a quick nod. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Pixel stepped up with a shaking step, his balance wavering as he reached and grasped for Sportacus’s extended hand.  
“You’re doing great, Pixel! Keep it going, and keep your eyes on me! It’s going to be okay!” said Sportacus encouragingly, smiling despite his own growing nervousness.  
Pixel sucked down a gulp of air and, shutting his eyes, leaned far forward and just barely managed to grab Sportacus’s hand before completely tumbling out of the airplane. With a grunt and a harsh pull, Pixel was away from the burning mess of a plane and onto the relative safety of Sportacus’s push broom.  
“Are you okay, Pixel?” Sportacus asked.  
Pixel shuddered and nodded, even as his body shook.  
“I-I’m okay!” he said.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Alright, now I need you to listen closely. I’m going to cast a gravity spell on you, and that should cushion your fall as long as you keep your body loose and untensed. That means you need to try and stay calm. Do you think you can do that?”   
Pixel’s face drained of color.  
“W-Wait, you mean you’re going to throw me off your broom??”  
Sportacus shook his head quickly.  
“No no, nothing like that! Just think of it as slowly floating. That’s what it’ll feel like. You just need to get ready to roll when you hit the ground. Does that sound okay?”  
Pixel’s eyes darted to the ground, then back to Sportacus. He could feel the world tilt and turn as he processed just how far of a fall it’d be. But, then again, he trusted Sportacus enough to believe that the witch wouldn’t deliberately allow him to crash into a messy pulp across the ground.  
He gave a nod.  
Sportacus smiled and, whispering some choice ancient words under his breath, pressed his index finger against Pixel’s forehead. Pixel shivered and gasped as he felt a sensation, like the feeling of static electricity arcing through the air, hover and course across his skin. It was a distinctly alien feeling, and across where Sportacus’s finger had laid, he felt a slight pins and needles sensation. It was uncomfortable, to say the least.  
“Alright, do you want me to lead you out, or do you just want to jump?” asked Sportacus.  
“Leading out would be nice.” Pixel mumbled, still adjusting to the magic sensation.  
Sportacus nodded and, hurriedly, led Pixel out into a free fall.

Pixel floated gently to the ground like a leaf, tumbling and gliding, landing softly into a forward roll in the long grasses. For better or for worse, he was in one piece. He stood up and brushed off the dirt on his pants.  
“Pixel!” cried Stephanie.  
Pixel looked up and was immediately tackled-hugged by Stephanie, nearly falling back to the ground.  
“Hey! You came to meet up with me?” asked Pixel with a sheepish smile, his cheeks growing slightly pink.  
“Of course! You really think I wouldn’t??” Stephanie asked, her voice shaking.  
Pixel carefully hugged her back, looking up to see Trixie tailing behind, walking her far too large bike with her.  
“I’m guessing that’s how you both got here so fast?” asked Pixel gesturing to the bike.  
Trixie shrugged.  
“Hey, she was worried about you. Least I could do.” Trixie said with a smile.  
Pixel smiled and mouthed his silent thanks.

With one person safe, Sportacus redirected his concerns towards the mayor, who still fumbled and struggled with the controls, desperately trying to steer the crumbling airplane as far away from the town as he could, even as smoke created a wall of choking black that obscured his vision. Tongues of orange and red flame licked up at the open air, and the nasty sputtering sound that the engine made only grew louder.  
“Mayor Meanswell! We have to go!” said Sportacus, reaching out once more.  
Mayor Meanswell shook his head.  
“Sportacus, if I let go of these controls, there’s no telling where this plane will land! I can’t let it crash into the town!” he protested.  
“But you have to leave! You can’t go with the plane!” said Sportacus.  
“I need to do what’s best for the town!” stated the mayor firmly, even as his voice conveyed fear.  
Sportacus’s face paled, realizing the implications of the mayor’s statement. Gripping the broom as firmly as possible, he steered himself closer to the side of the plane, hoping to get a good view of the controls.  
“Mayor, I might be able to charm the controls to steer the plane away from town. I could make it crash into a nearby lake or empty field instead if you let me!” Sportacus suggested.  
The mayor tried to respond, but was cut off by another blast, a screw coming loose and nearly striking him across the forehead.  
“Oh! If you can do that, do it quickly! I don’t think she’ll hold much longer!” begged the mayor.  
Sportacus nodded and steeled his gaze. He cracked his knuckles and held out a hand towards the controls.  
He thought of gears shifting, of fuel burning in the engine, and of open fields far away from civilization as his magic crackled and fizzed across his hand.  
“Overri – “He began to say.

Another blast erupted from the plane’s front, sending two splinters of metal flying backwards and right towards Sportacus. One, the smaller one, struck Sportacus across the bicep, slicing a thick gash into his arm and causing him to recoil in response. The second, much larger piece struck the broom, splintering off the front tip of the handle. The broom shook and groaned, its direction and flight pattern growing increasingly erratic as it floundered through the air, deaf to Sportacus’s pleas and verbal spell castings.  
Ignoring the blood that dripped from his arm, Sportacus attempted to forcefully reassert his control over the broom, but to no avail. The broom continued to swerve and swing back and forth, side to side, until it ultimately slammed straight against the side of the plane, right above the wing. With a gasp, Sportacus was sent sprawling across the plane’s body, laying directly behind Mayor Meanswell as the broom toppled and tumbled off the plane and through the air, crashing into the fields below.  
  
Robbie, on the ground, watched the horrifying spectacle and, despite his labored breaths, charged on, his eyes trained upon the burning plane.  
  
“Sportacus! Oh my, are you okay?” asked the mayor fearfully.  
Sportacus, cringing, lifted his head as he gripped onto the smooth surface of the plane.  
“I’m fine; I’ll be okay!” Sportacus said with a wince.  
Mayor Meanswell flinched as another blast shook the plane, forcing Sportacus to grip even harder onto the plane, feeling as if any minute he’d go flying and falling through the air to certain doom.  
“S-Sportacus! What are we going to do??” Mayor Meanswell asked nervously as he continued to wrestle with the controls, swinging the plane away from town once more.  
Sportacus panted, his weariness growing all-encompassing, as he evaluated his options. He knew what was most important: he had to get the mayor safe. That was certain, but what he was less certain about was whether or not he had enough magic and energy to cast both a gravity spell on the mayor and a control spell on the plane, plus a gravity spell for himself. He knew he could probably manage two spells, but not three. He could teleport, but teleportation spells required so much energy on his behalf he wasn’t sure if he could cast that after casting a control spell. His magic had only just seemingly come back; he wasn’t sure where its limits stood, and how much he could experiment with them.  
He looked up at the mayor with a serious gaze and, with a few whispered words, touched the mayor’s forehead with his index finger.  
“Sportacus? What are – oh my, that…that feels so strange…” The mayor gasped, feeling the pins and needles and static electricity sensation through his body.  
Sportacus’s magic fizzled and sputtered around the conclusion of the spell, and he gave a tired smile to the mayor.  
“A gravity spell. It should let you fall safely to the ground.” He said.  
Mayor Meanswell looked at Sportacus worriedly.  
“You’ll cast one on yourself too, right? After you get the plane’s landing secure?”  
Sportacus weakly smiled.  
“Of course. Now just jump off the side. I promise the spell will slow your fall.”  
The mayor looked at Sportacus for a moment with suspicion, before finally turning away towards the side of the plane. Without another word, he leapt off, screaming as he fell harmlessly to the ground, Stephanie and the others quickly speeding to his side.

Sportacus looked back to the controls once he’d made sure that the mayor had landed safely. Immediately upon turning back, he was hit with a cloud of smoke that made him choke and sputter. He was thankful that he’d slipped his goggles on earlier, so at the least he could see what he was doing.  
He peered down at the controls, gripping the yoke and rudder as he struggled to keep the plane stable long enough to consider just how and where he’d set the plane on its crash course. The flames grew higher and hotter, flicking past him across the sides of the plane. He wiped collected beads of sweat off his face, shivering as he felt another hot and thick trail of blood drip off his wounded arm. He held up a hand and snapped his fingers, testing for how much magic he still had in him.  
A weak spark was all that sprung forward.  
His heart sank. He snapped his fingers again.  
This time, a short fountain of sparks and light flowed forth, but near immediately shorted out.  
He was growing tired, and his magic energy was drained.  
The realization sank within him and it made his heart freeze.  
Most likely, with what energy he had left, he could only cast one spell.  
Either the control spell or the gravity spell for himself.  
He stared down at the plane’s port, watching as the aeronautics tools clicked back and forth, the needles on the dials swerving like a drunk driver on a late night. He looked back up at the engine, watching how the fire spread towards the propeller, burning trails of dark black across the crimson paint.  
His thoughts raced as he considered his few options. The engine wouldn’t hold for much longer, but he also couldn’t allow the burning remains to crash anywhere near the town or townsfolk. Letting it crash into the field wasn’t ideal, given how dry the grasses were, and the nearest body of water was several miles away.  
The only option had to be the control spell, which would also keep the engine intact long enough for the plane to crash land in a safe location. But that’d mean for him…  
Sportacus sucked in a thick breath. This was the only good option.  
Gripping the rudder, Sportacus squeezed his eyes and forced himself to think of water. Of Murky Lake, the nearest lake to LazyTown. He thought about the plane remaining stable, of it crashing by the shore close enough to the water as to not catch any grasses or trees on fire.  
“Let it be so.” He whispered, as trails of lacy light engulfed the controls, intertwining in intricate webs that ran down the levers and switches. The engine hummed in response, the sputtering and clattering ceasing for only a moment as the spell set in.  
Sportacus sighed and let go of the rudder and yoke, the plane now controlling itself. He sat back in the seat, only glancing off to the side momentarily. He snapped his fingers again, but this time no sparks flew from his hands.  
He was truly spent of magic.  
Which meant no teleportation spell.  
Which meant only two options: taking a risk and jumping from the plane, or crashing with it.  
He didn’t want either option, and both thoughts sent ice running down his spine and heart.

Robbie watched as the plane seemed to right itself, the once disintegrating airplane now holding steady and making a beeline towards the eastern border of town.  
“ _Right towards the lake. Sportacus redirected the plane._ ” Robbie thought to himself, a small moment of relief crossing his thoughts.  
But then some time passed. And Sportacus was still in the plane.  
Robbie’s face paled.  
Wasn’t he going to bail soon?  
Then, a terrifying thought crossed Robbie’s mind.  
What if he wasn’t _planning_ on bailing?  
What if he _couldn’t_?  
Robbie gritted his teeth and, fighting the growing pain in his legs, he powered forward, barreling past Mayor Meanswell and the children.  
“Mr. Rotten! What are you - ?” The mayor started.  
“Shut up! Busy!” Robbie shouted, rubbing his hands together. Even with how tired he felt, he _should_ have enough for a propulsion spell. Getting the aim right was the only tricky part, but he’d have to try regardless.  
Crackling arcs of purple light and energy laced between his open palms, the streams curling and coursing down to his legs and feet. His attention shot above him, his eyes trained upon the smoldering red airplane, right at the left wing.  
“Jump!” Robbie yelled, before throwing one leg up and launching himself upwards.  
The magic in his hands and legs uttered a distorted blast, sending strands of grass and pebbles flying in a dust cloud as the man flung himself hundreds of feet up into the air. Robbie fought to keep his eyes open and focused on the plane’s wing, and tried to remind himself _not_ to let his attention drift to the ground. Not just because he didn’t want to accidentally redirect his propulsion towards the ground, but also because he really didn’t need to think about just how high up he was.  
“Don’t die don’t die don’t die – “Robbie muttered to himself, only to be interrupted as he landed, rather ungracefully, against the wing. His chest hit first, and all the air in his lungs was shoved out in a single _oomph_ , his arms flailing desperately to secure himself against the plane, even as the draft threatened to send him tumbling back to the ground.

This whole spectacle was witnessed by Mayor Meanswell and the children, who only stood and stared, mouths gaping open.  
“Oh my…I can most certainly say I didn’t expect to see _that_.” The mayor said, stunned.  
Swallowing a breath, Stephanie shallowly nodded.  
“Well, I guess that does make a bit of sense…”  
Trixie raised an eyebrow.  
“So, does this mean Mr. Rotten’s a witch too or…?”  
Pixel just stood there in shock, staring at the spot where Robbie had cast his propulsion spell.

Sportacus had been so distracted looking for a potentially less lethal place to land, that he nearly jumped out of the seat when Robbie slammed against the plane’s wing. He spun around and, with eyes wide and pupils shrunken, stared at Robbie in shock.  
“Robbie? What are you doing here?!” He asked, his cap finally coming loose and flying off his head.  
“What do you think I’m doing, Sportaflop?! I’m here to help you!” Robbie said, grunting as he pulled himself up and onto the wing, breathing in relief once all of his body was finally, safely on the plane.  
“W-What? Why??” Sportacus shouted, ducking as another blast echoed from the engine.  
“Why?! Because if you think I’m going to let you crash the plane with _you in it_ , you really are an idiot!” Robbie remarked angrily, crawling across the wing towards the cockpit.  
Sportacus looked at Robbie confusedly.  
“What? Robbie, I wasn’t…I wasn’t going to do that! I was just looking for someplace safe for me to land! Er, without the plane that is!” He said.  
Robbie stopped.  
“What? Well, why not just cast a, you know, a gravity spell?” Robbie asked.  
“Um, my magic’s been a bit haywire lately. I had it going for a while today, but now I think I’m out of juice.” Sportacus said, cringing.  
Robbie’s eyes drifted down.  
“Oh…well that _would_ make a lot more sense. B-But, where were you thinking of landing?”  
Sportacus prepared to answer, before shutting his mouth.  
“Uh, well, I’m still working that part out.” He said.  
“I’d say you don’t have a ton of time for that.” Robbie retorted.  
“Not if we just sit here talking I don’t!” Sportacus said exasperatedly.  
Robbie recoiled. Right, idly chatting was probably not helping the matters. And now that there were _two_ of them stuck in the same situation, finding a good spot for them both to land safely would be a hard find.  
“Would the grass be a good spot to land? I think there’s a spot over there.” He suggested.  
“No, remember we’ll drift a few feet off if we jump. At this rate, we’ll miss our target by several feet and who knows what we’ll land on then.” Sportacus said, looking stressfully at the ground.  
“Good point. Well, there still is – “Robbie started.

Another explosion ripped through the plane and, disconcertingly, a crack rippled through the hard, metal body, and a metallic groan rang through the air.

In sync, both men looked down at the plane’s body, then back up at each other. The crack was forming straight down the middle of the plane.  
“Spor – “Robbie said, before being cut off by a louder groan.  
Before the faerie could do anything more, he uttered a shocked gasp as the plane underneath him shifted and, finally, folded in on itself. Horizontal suddenly became vertical, and the violent shift sent Robbie flying backwards.  
“ROBBIE!” Sportacus shouted, sprawling backwards to reach for the man. His hand swung back and, fortunately, he managed to grab the man’s hand before he completely fell out of reach.  
Unfortunately, the sudden shift in balance and the downward momentum of Robbie’s fall sent Sportacus rolling forward, quickly joining Robbie in his terrifying freefall, leaving behind the burning wreckage of a plane that continued its flight towards the lake.  
Robbie clenched Sportacus’s hand tighter as the all too familiar feeling of air rushing past him filled his ears and sent every nerve in his body on high alert. He gasped and let out a sound of shuddered horror as he took one quick look at the ground, before his gaze returned to Sportacus.  
The witch pulled himself closer to the faerie, his eyes wide with fear and worry.  
“Are you okay, Robbie??”  
“Fine?? You’re asking me that _now_?! We’re about to fall to our deaths, Sportaclown!” Robbie yelled.  
“We don’t have to! Quick, cast a cushioning spell! O-Or another gravity spell!” Sportacus said frantically, his attention deviating briefly to the ground.  
Robbie nodded and, with a shaking hand, snapped his fingers while thinking about cushions, pits filled with foam, and mattresses.  
A single spark flew from his finger in response.  
Robbie swore under his breath, then looked regretfully at the witch.  
“I…I think I’m out too.” He said.  
The color faded in Sportacus’s face as he frantically looked back and forth, from the ground to Robbie to back to the ground.  
“Sportacus, I’m so sorry.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus’s gaze shot back to Robbie.  
“Robbie, really, it’s okay – “  
“No, no Sportacus, no it’s not okay!”  
“We both ran out of magic. It happens, it’s – “  
“I’m not talking about that!” Robbie snapped. “Or, at least, n-not just that, but…but everything!” Robbie gripped Sportacus’s arms.   
“I’m sorry for everything that happened these past few weeks. I’m sorry for getting you nearly killed _twice_ and doing nothing about it. I’m sorry for ignoring you even when you were just trying to help. I’m sorry that I didn’t say _any of this_ until we were literally _about to die_ and I just wish we had time to try all of this again because…because…” He said, his eyes sparkling with tears.  
Robbie’s words faded away as he felt something lay gently against his cheek.  
A hand.  
_Sportacus’s_ hand.  
The witch was looking at him in the eyes, his gaze sad yet calm. He gave a small smile, a weak one that seemed almost accepting. His eyes darted away only momentarily, back down to the ground, before they returned to Robbie’s. Sportacus only tensed for a moment, before he leaned forward.  
And with the most chaste, most light, most gentle of pressure, he laid a kiss against Robbie’s lips.  
It was so light, so quick, that Robbie’s brain nearly didn’t register it. He froze there, staring as Sportacus pulled away only by an inch or so, his face still hovering close to the faerie’s. Robbie gulped, and then his eyes turned back up towards the ground, and he felt himself wince in preparation as the ground drew closer.  
Instinctually, he felt himself pull Sportacus closer, before he squeezed his eyes shut, turning his chin down so he buried the lower half of his face in Sportacus’s hair. He could feel Sportacus follow suit, feeling Sportacus lean in close and rest his face against the crook of his neck. He could feel something burn within him, a sensation he attributed to his body preparing for the agony of bones breaking against earth, even as the burning grew hotter and all-encompassing. Both held each other in anticipation of their looming demises.

The kids and Mayor Meanswell watched in horror as Sportacus and Robbie plummeted towards the earth.  
“SPORTACUS! MR. ROTTEN!” shouted Stephanie fearfully, her body frozen in a pre-running stance, but her feet refused to move.  
Mayor Meanswell quickly grabbed Stephanie, Pixel, and Trixie and pulled them close to his chest, shielding their eyes. All the while he stared in terror.  
“Let us go, mayor! We need to help them!” Trixie protested, feebly punching at the mayor’s side.  
The mayor cringed at the hits and shook his head.  
“Children, don’t look! Please don’t look!” he begged them as his face grew paler.  
The two men were rapidly approaching the ground, their forms nothing but blurry blobs of blue and purple as they picked up speed.  
Mayor Meanswell wanted to look away, but something prevented him from doing so. Like watching a train crash in slow motion, he supposed, he was stuck staring.  
“ _Please be okay, please be okay…_ ” Mayor Meanswell’s thoughts begged, even though he knew that hope was so slim. He took a step back as the two plummeting figures drew closer to the ground.  
That’s when he heard something. Like the sharp chime of a tiny bell, and the briefest flash of royal purple. Like the light produced from a short-circuiting wire.  
The figures disappeared in the sea of grass, but the mayor didn’t hear a sickening thud or crunch.  
No, he heard something like a whistle, like the sound of something cutting through the air.  
And that’s when he was nearly thrown backwards, as said purple blur barreled past him, throwing up blades of grass and a trail of dust in its wake. The purple blur flew across the ground before, rather unexpectedly, shooting straight upwards at a ninety-degree angle.  
The mayor could only blink, and stare at the space right in front of him. The space that the blur had recklessly zoomed past him in.  
“Mayor, do you think they’re okay?” asked a muffled voice belonging to Pixel, his hands working to push away from the mayor’s grip.  
The mayor paused a moment before responding.  
“Children, I don’t know what happened, or what’s going on. But officially, today is an odd day.” He responded casually.

For Robbie, those series of events had come rather suddenly.  
Right before when he assumed that he and Sportacus would be reduced to splattered puddles against the ground, he heard a keening whine ringing in his ears, high-pitched to the point of pain-inducing. He felt the burning that had encompassed his body grow so intense that it was unbearable, burning so hot that it nearly felt cold.  
Then, it was suddenly gone.  
And he heard the sounds of something ripping, and saw a brief flash of light through his closed eyelids.  
And then he was hit with a force of momentum that sent him flying not downwards, but _sideways_.  
And not just at terminal velocity, but at a blistering speed that forced him to finally open his eyes and realize, with a level of terror, that the ground was no longer drawing closer, but the _trees_ that originally sat in the distance were. He could hear whistling in his ears as he picked up speed, the world around him smudging and blurring into streaks of blue and golden green, the dark evergreen growing closer concerningly fast.  
“Oh gods, stop! STOP!” he screamed, throwing one of his arms in front of his face.  
While he didn’t technically stop, he did stop rocketing towards the trees. Instead, Robbie forcefully exhaled as the momentum of his movement shifted once more, this time straight upwards back into the sky. His head grew dizzy from the sudden change in direction, small stars twinkling in his vision as he finally processed that he was no longer falling, but instead was careening right back up into the cloud layer.  
“Oh gods, oh gods…” Robbie muttered, feverishly trying to understand what was happening.  
“Robbie? What’s going on??” Sportacus asked, finally peeling himself away from Robbie’s torso.  
“I don’t know, but _hang on_!” Robbie said, clutching Sportacus tighter against him as his stomach bottomed out, the upward momentum coming to an abrupt halt.  
They hovered for only a brief momentum, before the free fall started once more.  
Robbie shouted and yelled as him and Sportacus quickly spiraled into a corkscrew nose-dive right back towards the ground, his legs flailing uselessly, kicking at the open air.  
“Go sideways! Go sideways! Or something! Don’t make us face plant!” begged Robbie hysterically, his pupils shrinking to mere dots in a sea of gray and white.  
Whatever was causing Robbie to go on this crazy and completely uncalled for flight seemed to listen, and Robbie’s free fall shifted directed once more, this time sending him falling not straight down, but at a slight angle. Robbie groaned as the pressure against his body gave him the distinct feeling of being squished, his flight taking a curved dive towards the ground. He could feel his speed slow as they approached the ground, no longer falling at terminal velocity. The ground drew closer at a steady rate, before finally he felt himself quiver and shake, his stability finally failing on him. Both Robbie and Sportacus crashed against the ground, tumbling into a roll that only ended several feet from their landing spots.

Once the world stopped spinning, Sportacus was the first to rise from where he’d finally come to a rest. He groaned, feeling his limbs protest as he dragged himself up onto his knees. He took a quick look over himself. Surprisingly, despite everything and discounting the still present gash across his arm, he’d walked away mostly unscathed. A few scrapes, scratches, and bruises, but overall still intact. It was a miracle, and Sportacus couldn’t fight back a short, quiet laugh that escaped him.  
Any jubilation over his survival stopped, however, as soon as Sportacus realized that Robbie hadn’t risen yet.  
“R-Robbie?” He asked nervously, stumbling to his feet, wincing at a pain in his leg. Okay, maybe he hadn’t gotten away as scot free as he hoped.  
He searched about anxiously, limping through the fields as he sought for any sign of the faerie, hoping that he was in one piece as well. Finally, he heard a groan that came from a few feet to the west, and Sportacus quickly (as quickly as he could) sauntered over towards the noise.  
“Robbie? Please, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Sportacus asked uneasily, his ears tipping downwards.  
Another groan, then Sportacus saw the top of Robbie’s head.  
“I’m fine, Sportaloon. Dinged up, yes. But alive at least.” He answered.  
Sportacus’s shoulders untensed, and a relieved smile crossed his face.  
“That’s good. For a second there, with the landing and all, I thought you were – “  
Sportacus stopped, his feet anchoring to the ground. His eyes froze wide open, and suddenly Sportacus found himself at a loss for words.  
Robbie lifted himself into a sitting position, cringing at the soreness lacing up his body.  
“I’m not bruised, if that’s what you were about to say. At least, don’t think so. Nothing that won’t go away in a few days or so…” He continued, before finally noticing the expression on Sportacus’s face.   
The elf’s mouth had dropped open, and said mouth was quickly covered by a hand as his eyes twinkled.  
He raised an eyebrow. “Um, earth to Sportaclod? You okay over there?”  
“Robbie, you…” Sportacus said, his voice hushed to a near whisper.  
Robbie frowned, and scrunched his nose.  
“What? I what? Am I missing something? What are you staring at?” He asked.  
Sportacus gulped down a thick breath.  
“S-Sorry, it’s just…they’re beautiful.” He said in awe.  
Robbie looked even more confused.  
“What’s beautiful?”  
Sportacus gestured to Robbie’s back.  
“Your wings.”

Robbie, at first, looked only more confused.  
“Come on, Sportadork. You know I don’t have – “He started.  
That’s when he finally noticed the strange new weight on his back. Nothing encumbering, but still noticeable.  
That’s when he noticed the edges of something with black tips fluttering in his peripheral vision, gently ghosting against the surrounding grasses.  
Robbie’s heart skipped a beat and, with a moment of hesitation, he stood to his feet, glancing over his shoulder.  
And when he finally caught a glimpse of his wings, Robbie’s breath left him, and he was left absolutely stunned.  
Sportacus was right. His wings were _magnificent_.  
If he were to compare the shape of his wings to anything, they reminded him of the Birdwing butterfly’s wings he’d seen once in a biology book he borrowed from the library. But the shape was where the comparison quickly ended. Because the wings shone gloriously in the sunlight, sending beams of iridescent, refracted light onto the ground. They were clear, but their scales held a tint of color, so faint that they were only visible in the light. They held tints of pale blues, rich purples and lavender, and even pinks of both the hot and pale variety. The only thing breaking up the shimmering, glass-like sheen of his wings were black veins that crisscrossed in intricate, frost-like patterns across their surfaces. Topping off the marvelous appendages, trailing from the hindwings’ outer edges, were a pair of ribbon-like tails that ended with short plumes of purple scales.  
At first, Robbie stood there in silence, his mouth dropped open in shock and admiration. He let his new wings flutter and flap against the warm breeze, him shivering at the strange yet familiar sensation. His mouth turned to a smile, a surprised and yet elated smile. One that let a canine peek out from his lips, as a low, quiet laugh escaped him, his chest quivering with every laugh. He ran a hand through his hair as a tear rolled down his cheek, his laughter growing louder.  
Sportacus furrowed his brow.  
“Robbie? Are you okay?”  
Robbie laughed harder.  
“Y-Yes, I am…I’m just…I can’t believe they’re…and gods, they’re…they’re…” He rambled.  
“Perfect?” Sportacus suggested shyly.  
Robbie’s laughter ceased, and he looked at the witch with eyes still glistening with tears. He gave a slow nod, his extinguished smile creeping back slowly onto his face.  
“Yeah…that’s a good word for them. They’re everything I could’ve dreamed of.” He said quietly.  
Sportacus smiled.  
“You deserve them, Robbie.” He said.

Robbie’s smile lasted as he glanced back at his wings once more, watching how they twitched and fluttered in the breeze, squinting at the sparkles that reflected off his scales. His eyes glanced over to Sportacus once more, seeing how the elf watched him with a sad, but still proud smile.  
The faerie’s smile faded, and he remembered what he wanted to say.  
“Sportacus,” He started.  
Sportacus’s gaze cleared, his smile vanishing.  
Robbie sighed and turned back to face the witch, his wings drooping slightly.  
“I, uh, know that I need to talk to you about something.” He started.  
“Only if you want to and are ready, Robbie.” Sportacus said patiently.  
Robbie shook his head.  
“No, don’t say that. I know I need to talk to you about what happened. Now.” He said, closing his eyes and taking a breath.  
Sportacus gave a curt not and stayed quiet.  
Robbie brushed some hair from his face.  
“I know that these last few weeks have been…well, a bit much. For both of us, I mean. And a lot of it’s my fault, and I’m sorry.” Robbie said.  
“You don’t need to apologize, Robbie. I understand. You’ve been through a lot.” Sportacus said.  
Robbie sighed. “Maybe, but I still could’ve handled things better.”  
“You might be being a bit hard on yourself.”  
Robbie gave the witch a look. “Regretting forcing you to chase me through a deadly forest and threatening you with a sword right after begging you to kill me is being hard on myself?”  
Sportacus opened his mouth to respond, before closing it slowly.  
“Thought so.” Robbie noted lowly.  
“It’s still okay.” Sportacus said.  
“But it wasn’t.” Robbie said softly. “I…you at least deserve an explanation. When I saw your ears, it dug up a lot of painful memories. Things that I thought I’d put far behind me, but apparently never left. I…I never _truly_ thought you would hurt me, but something made me feel and think otherwise.”  
“It doesn’t excuse how I responded. I shouldn’t have run, and I shouldn’t have stayed hidden for so long. Not long enough that you’d actually look for me, and not long enough for the stuff in the forest to happen, or what happened at my court.” He cringed. “I should’ve at least _tried_ to talk things out with you rationally, and not just react like you were one of _them_.”  
Sportacus’s ears drooped.  
“I mean, it makes sense. Your court was obliterated by my people, and they killed your family. It’s not like your reaction was out of nowhere.” He said quietly.  
“Maybe not, but I still reacted like you _changed_ because you were an elf. I…I thought for a while that because you were an elf, that everything between us was…was a lie. That you may want me dead, even after all that.”  
Sportacus’s expression drooped to match his ears.  
“But, that’s when I realized that wasn’t it. I feared that, but I knew that wasn’t true. I realized that my fear wasn’t about you being an elf, but about what it meant for me to…to be in love with you.”  
The drooped expression on Sportacus’s face was quickly replaced with a surprised one, a shade of pink eclipsing his cheeks.  
A pained expression crossed Robbie’s face. “I feared that if you and I were to be together, that I’d be disrespecting the memory of my family and court. I feared that, by loving you, I’d be taking their gift for granted. And I didn’t…I don’t…” His voice grew wobblier, and his eyes grew watery.

Sportacus immediately, without another thought, pulled Robbie close to him, hugging him tightly. Robbie, after taking a moment to react, shakily returned the elf’s hug.  
Sportacus rubbed the back of Robbie’s head while massaging circles under his wings.  
“It’s okay, Robbie. It’s okay.” He said in a hushed tone.  
Robbie sniffled, and wiped away his tears.  
“It’s not though.”  
“It is.”  
“No, I mean,” Robbie said, pulling away and wiping away the last few tears on his sleeve. “I-I’ve done a lot of thinking, and realizing, over the last few days. Not on my own though. I had some help.” He said, a shaky smile crossing his lips. “Your cat can be pretty insightful when she wants to be.”  
Sportacus quietly laughed. “More than you know.”  
“No, I think I know. She told me about you and her. What she used to be and why you left the elven kingdom.” Robbie said.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“She did?”  
Robbie nodded.  
“She helped me understand what my parents would’ve wanted, and what I should do to honor their memory. To make their sacrifice…worthwhile.” He said with a sad look.  
“Robbie…”  
“I have to live the life I want. I want my life to reflect what I truly want it to be.” Robbie said, a determined look crossing his face. He looked Sportacus in the eyes. “I don’t want to be scared anymore, because I know what I want most.”  
“And what is that?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie gave a small laugh. “I…I don’t want to be afraid of letting people into my life anymore. I want to be unafraid of letting people close, of having friends and having a community. I want to _live_ , and love the people I love without fear.”  
His thumb traced circular patterns on Sportacus’s arm.  
“But…I know that’ll take time. That’s why, I was hoping, that maybe we could try this again. You and I, I mean. As friends, or…” Robbie’s cheeks flushed at the next thought. “…or whatever you’re comfortable with. I want to try this again and I…well I was hoping, that you could help me. Help me open up again, and be brave.”  
His eyes fell. “I know I’m asking a lot, and I’m not saying it’ll be easy or quick, but – “  
“Robbie.” Said Sportacus.  
Robbie’s words dissipated in his mouth.  
Sportacus smiled, his hand rising to gently caress the man’s cheek.  
“I would be more than happy to help you through what happened. I would be more than happy to try all this again. I would want nothing more than to be by your side through everything, hard days and all.” He said earnestly.  
Robbie’s face burned red, his expression one of disbelief.  
“You mean it?”  
“Without a shadow of a doubt.” Sportacus said, smiling warmly.  
A crooked, half-smile appeared on Robbie’s face. He chuckled in relief.  
“Wow, I mean…I’m really, um, thankful to hear that.” He said.  
“And Robbie?”  
“Hm?”  
“I do mean by your side. As us, if that’s okay.” He said, his hand hovering over the faerie’s.  
An affectionate smile replaced the crooked one, and Robbie laughed, rolling his eyes. He leaned in close.  
“You are a lovesick fool, Sportaflop.” He said.

Then Robbie closed the gap between the two, and sparks flew that filled his heart with giddy bubbles and a fulfilling sense of completion. Even with his eyes closed, Robbie could feel how much warmer the world felt in that moment, their lips locked together and his hand reaching up to gently tangle its fingers in Sportacus’s golden locks. It felt right, absolutely right, and he sighed quietly in bliss.  
Once Sportacus realized that yes, indeed, Robbie was kissing him, he closed his eyes and let himself sink into the moment. He cupped the back of the faerie’s neck, and felt absolute joy once he felt Robbie’s fingers brush through his hair. A happy tear escaped him and rolled down his cheek. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted this moment, and now that it was happening, he felt like the world around him melted away. This was what mattered, and was all he wanted to matter.

The end of the kiss came all too soon for them both, their faces hovering mere inches away from each other’s, their eyes half-lidded contently.  
“Wow, that…” Sportacus said.  
Robbie grinned. “Not too bad, Sportadork?”  
Sportacus laughed. “That was wonderful, it’s…it’s everything I was hoping to feel. I’ll admit, I’ve been hoping for this for a while.”  
Robbie smirked. “I sort of was too.”  
Sportacus looked at the faerie warmly, tracing a finger across his cheekbone.  
Robbie leaned into the touch momentarily, before leaning into the kiss the elf once again, his wings fluttering joyously. His finger accidentally ghosted the edge of Sportacus’s ear, and he could hear the elf sigh and his ear wiggle in response. He chuckled into the kiss, parting momentarily only to lock lips again. Sportacus carded a hand through Robbie’s hair. They both wanted nothing more than to sit together, just like that, forever.

“Mr. Rotten! Sportacus! Are you both – “came a small voice.  
Sportacus and Robbie’s eyes shot wide open, their gazes trailing from each other to the small audience they just realized they now had. Their lips parted and they looked with surprise at the group witnessing their embrace.  
Pixel and Trixie stood there, eyes big as dinner plates and their lips drawn into thin lines of, not necessarily disapproval, but definitely stunned shock.  
Stephanie stood a bit behind them, a slightly more surprised smile peeking its way onto her face.  
Mayor Meanswell looked much more embarrassed, his cheeks a slight pink even as his face gave away the gears turning in his head, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.  
Robbie and Sportacus’s eyes slowly drifted back to each other, and they realized just how odd the situation must look to the children and mayor. Wrapped up with one another, Robbie’s arms around above Sportacus’s shoulders, his wings out and visible to everyone along with Sportacus’s ears. All their secrets were out on display for several of the townsfolk.  
“Mr. Rotten, you’re a…a…” Pixel said, gesturing to his wings.  
“And Sportacus! You’re an…” Trixie started as well.  
Stephanie smiled. “I knew you guys would make up eventually!”  
“Wait, you KNEW about their…?” Trixie said in shock.  
“Well, not the wings and the ears part, but I thought them liking each other was easy enough to see!” She responded.  
“I guess you’re right, but still…” Pixel said.  
Mayor Meanswell cleared his throat and looked at Sportacus and Robbie.  
“Um, greatest apologies Sportacus! Mr. Rotten! Should we come back later or …”  
  
Sportacus’s face flushed red and he forced a smile.  
“No no! It’s okay, right Robbie?”  
“Yeah, right…” Robbie mumbled, looking down sheepishly, his own face a bright red.  
Sportacus looked away from the fumbling and confused children, and the still pink-faced mayor, to address Robbie.  
“I guess we have some explaining to do, huh?”  
“I like the idea of baby steps better. Deal with this later.” Robbie said, his voice muffled by Sportacus’s uniform.  
“I don’t think we get a choice this time, Robbie.” Sportacus said with a weak smile.  
Robbie sighed exasperatedly, reluctantly knowing that what Sportacus said was right.  
“Goody.” He muttered, refusing to lift his head away from Sportacus’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations for reaching the end to the longest chapter of TWWB so far. 13,000 words...it's a doozy. But necessary, given everything that happened XD
> 
> Apologies for how long this chapter has taken. My life got crazy busy for several weeks so I was unable to devote much time to writing. I'm less busy this week, so I was able to churn this chapter out in that time! 
> 
> There's only one chapter left of this fic. Can't believe we've gotten there already. I hope you all are enjoying this story so far and enjoy the last chapter as well!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	22. The Status Quo

A knock rang out against the door, catching Mayor Meanswell’s attention.  
  
“Come in.” He said, putting down the latest issue of the newspaper.  
The door creaked open, Ms. Busybody walking in carrying two paper lunch bags that looked filled to the top.  
“I’ve got lunch!” announced Ms. Busybody cheerily, striding towards the mayor’s desk.  
A half-smile crossed the mayor’s face, and he leaned forward expectantly.  
“I stopped by Neil’s bakery on my way here, so I have sandwiches for both of us. Brie and turkey for you, Italian grinder for me.” Ms. Busybody said, laying down the sandwiches on the desk. “I’ve also got some potato salad and chips, plus some fruit since Sportacus insisted.”  
Mayor Meanswell pawed through his sandwich, eyebrows raising once he caught a glimpse at the freshly made mustard spread across the baguette.  
“And to drink, glasses of fresh-squeezed lemonade!” Ms. Busybody said in a sing-song tone.  
Mayor Meanswell smiled weakly and grabbed his own bottle of lemonade.  
“Thank you, Bessie.” He said, popping the cap off, taking a slow sip.  
Ms. Busybody paused, noting the bags underneath the mayor’s eyes. She sighed, and sat herself down on the edge of the desk.  
“Dearie, you look like you haven’t slept in days. Is something troubling you?” She asked calmly.

Mayor Meanswell closed his eyes and sighed.  
“Well, Bessie, sort of? It’s more that this last week’s been very busy.” Mayor Meanswell said tiredly.  
“The plane clean-up?” asked Ms. Busybody.  
Mayor Meanswell nodded.   
“As if anything else could be the matter.” He stated.  
Ms. Busybody gave a single nod, taking a bite from her sandwich.  
“It’s been quite a mess, hasn’t it?”  
“Unfortunately, quite the understatement.” Mayor Meanswell responded.  
“Well, at least Sportacus aimed the plane close to the lake. Not close enough for the gasoline to leak into the water, but close enough to not catch any bushes on fire. All things considered, it ended fairly well.” Ms. Busybody said with a smile.  
Mayor Meanswell didn’t respond, his eyes dropping to the floor.  
Ms. Busybody’s smile faded.  
“Of course, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a terrible experience for you and everyone else.” She said in a quiet voice.  
“It couldn’t have ended worse.” Mayor Meanswell said sadly.  
“Now that’s not true.” Ms. Busybody said with a frown. “No one was hurt, right? Already, that’s a good thing.”  
“The plane still malfunctioned and crashed. Pixel’s life was put in danger and without Sportacus, I most likely would’ve died when the plane crashed.” Mayor Meanswell said, his face growing paler as he spoke.  
Ms. Busybody slid over to the mayor’s side, wrapping her arms around him.  
“Everything’s okay, dearie.” She said in a hushed voice.  
“I feel awful about what happened, Bessie. I was the one who hired those hooligans that assembled the engine so poorly, so this was all _my_ fault.” Mayor Meanswell said sadly.  
“Well, yes, you should’ve given them a more thorough background check. That I can’t deny.” Ms. Busybody said, biting her lip. “But, things still didn’t turn out too badly did they? You’re here. Pixel’s here. Everyone’s still here. The clean-up is going smoothly. Given the circumstances, things went well.”  
Mayor Meanswell continued to look away.

“Hey, look at me.” Ms. Busybody said, gently turning the mayor’s chin towards her.  
He looked at her tiredly.  
“Mistakes happen, big and small. What matters is how we deal with things. You’ve been working yourself to the bone trying to get everything settled. Clean-up plans, apologies to the parents and children, damage control. You’ve drowned yourself in that work for the last few days.” She said, a warm smile forming. “I think you’re doing the best you can do right now. All you need now is to give yourself a little slack.”  
“You really think so? Wouldn’t that be letting myself off the hook?”  
“Not necessarily. I think it’s just demonstrating a little self-love.” Ms. Busybody said.  
Mayor Meanswell sighed, a small smile creeping onto his face.  
“There we go. There’s your smile.” Ms. Busybody said.  
Mayor Meanswell, turning to Ms. Busybody, leaned forward and planted a kiss on her lips, getting a little of her lipstick on his own lips.  
“Thank you, Bessie. You’ve really been supportive of me through all this. I can’t thank you enough.” He said.  
“I think I’m just doing my job, dear.” Ms. Busybody said with a chuckle.  
“Still, thank you.” Mayor Meanswell said, giving her another kiss.  
“You’re welcome, dear.” She responded.

Parting, Ms. Busybody picked up the mayor’s sandwich.  
“Now, you might want to start eating this. I don’t know how Neil’s sandwiches taste after sitting out too long.” She said.  
Mayor Meanswell nodded and took a generous bite from the sandwich, humming at the savory taste.  
“Hmm, he added some more seasonings than usual…” He noted.  
“Tasty, isn’t it?” said Ms. Busybody, taking another bite of her sandwich. “Sorry I was late, by the way. I stopped to talk with Sportacus. It sounds like he’s been working hard on his new broom.”  
“Oh! That’s right! Did he ever return Sven’s broom to him?”  
“After fishing for it in the grasses, yes.” Ms. Busybody said with a laugh. “It was broken in two when he found it.”  
Mayor Meanswell cringed.  
“Oh my, that isn’t good.”  
“At least Sven isn’t mad. Now he’s hung up the pieces on his wall. He’s been calling all his relatives to come by and see his ‘enchanted broom’.” Ms. Busybody chuckled.  
Mayor Meanswell laughed.  
“Well, at least he’s taking it in stride.” Mayor Meanswell said, making a note to forward funds to the janitor for a new push broom.  
“Oh, and Milford?”  
“Yes?” asked the mayor.

Ms. Busybody leaned forward and planted a kiss on his forehead.  
“I think, once this is all settled, we deserve a little vacation. Together? At the coast?” She suggested sweetly.  
Mayor Meanswell blushed.  
“O-Oh! That does sound wonderful, but how will we plan reservations? The coast is so busy this time of year.”  
“Oh no worries sweetie, I already booked us a little condo.” Ms. Busybody said with a wink.  
“B-But, how do you know I won’t be busy at that time – “  
“You won’t be. Trust me.” Ms. Busybody said, giving Mayor Meanswell another kiss before turning her attention back to her lunch.

\--

“Okay Sportacus, are you sure you’re ready? Want to do one last check up on its stability?”

Sportacus gave Evie a patient smile.  
“No, I think it’s as ready as it’ll ever be.” He said, straddling the broom carefully.  
In the time following the plane rescue, Sportacus had taken more time to craft his new broom and, while he’d always miss his old broom, this one was a thing of beauty. Crafted from black walnut with a tightly tied bristle set fastened with red twine, Sportacus’s new broom was a piece of art in itself. Finished off with a ribbon of shimmery blue tied around the head of the broomstick, the broom was absolutely stunning. Its core hummed with a strong, magic pulse, formed and shaped over several days by Sportacus and Circe, working meticulously to ensure an obedient and hardy energy.  
Sportacus slid the goggles over his eyes, gripping the handle firmly.  
“Now Sportacus, honey, you remember the signal in case you feel something going wrong, right?” asked Kaya, her arms folded.  
Sportacus nodded.  
“Yup. Scream like a banshee.”  
“Sportacus!” Evie lightly scolded.  
“Just kidding!” Sportacus said with a laugh. “I make an ‘x’ sign with my arms.”  
“Then we’ll be ready with the tarp to catch you.” Said Kaya, holding up the blue storm tarp.  
“And if it flies well, I get to ride next, right?” asked Pixel excitedly, looking up from his notebook.

Evie pursed her lips.  
“Well, perhaps. We’ll have to see…”  
“If Sportacus feels the broom is stable enough, you can go for a ride.” Kaya said, wrapping an arm around her wife.  
“Kaya.” Evie said firmly.  
“Evie, he’ll be fine.” Kaya said reassuringly.  
“But after the plane…”  
“That was different. This time, he’ll only be flying a few feet off the ground, and he has someone like Sportacus right next to him. This is as safe of an environment as he can get.” Kaya said.  
Evie looked down sadly.  
“Honey…” Kaya cooed.  
“I know. I know he’ll be fine.” Evie said with a sigh. She looked up at her son. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? And you can only fly for a few minutes.”  
“I know mom, I’ll be careful! You have my word.” Pixel said with a grin.  
Evie nodded, then gave a faint smile.  
“Okay, yes, you can go for a flight after Sportacus tests his broom.”  
Pixel grinned and hugged his mom.  
“Thanks mom!” He said excitedly.  
Evie hugged him back and sighed wearily.  
“Hoo boy, I am so not ready for this again.” She admitted with a laugh.  
Kaya gave her a kiss on the cheek.  
“You’re doing great, sweetie.” She assured her.

Pixel, pulling away, turned his attention to Sportacus.  
“You ready for a test flight?” He asked.  
Sportacus smiled, tapping his heels together.  
“You bet! Let’s go – WOAH!” He said, interrupted as his broom shot upwards.  
All three of the Hyperbyte family’s heads turned upwards, their eyes trained on the witch as the broom bolted up into the sky before lazily spiraling back down towards the ground in a gently corkscrew.  
A minute or so later, Sportacus had drifted back towards the ground, his broom hovering a few feet off the earth and staying stably in one spot. His mustache, usually stick straight, looked a little more kinked than usual and his blonde hair, hidden beneath his cap, stuck out in frazzled pieces as his cap barely clung to the side of his head, exposing one pointed ear.  
“Are you okay, dear?” asked Kaya.  
“N-Never better.” Sportacus mumbled, clearly still dazed.  
“Is…Is it supposed to do that?” Evie asked nervously.  
Sportacus, shaking his head furiously, collected himself.  
“Oh, no. The broom’s just new so it’s probably a little antsy. New brooms are funny like that. They just have to be broken in.”  
“Like a horse?”  
“Exactly like one.” Sportacus affirmed, tapping the broom’s handle.  
The broomstick hummed in response.  
“I don’t think this is a good idea…” whispered Evie to Kaya.  
Kaya, pursing her lips, nodded.  
“Pixel, sweetie, perhaps for today you shouldn’t fly with Sportacus.”  
“Aww…” Pixel said, crossing his arms.

Sportacus floated closer to the child, ruffling his hair.  
“Don’t worry, Pixel! Give me another hour or so and I bet the broom will be ready to fly with passengers!” Sportacus reassured him.  
“You think so?”  
“I know so!” Sportacus said confidently. He turned his attention to Pixel’s mothers. “Of course, as long as it’s okay with your moms by that time.”  
Pixel looked up at his moms with a begging expression.  
“Evie?” asked Kaya.  
Evie sighed and shook her head.  
“Alright. If the broom is looking more stable at that time, you can fly with Sportacus.”  
Pixel cheered happily.  
Sportacus, chuckling, turned his attention back up towards the sky. Smoothing out his hair and mustache, he kicked his heels one more time, to see how the broom responds.  
Like the last time, it shot straight up into the air, pulling a yelp from the witch.  
“For a magic man like him, he sure isn’t good at assuaging my fears.” Mumbled Evie.  
“Sometimes you just have to have a little faith, Evie.” Kaya said, kissing her wife as the three sat back and watched the witch frantically attempt to control his new broom.

\--

Jives had been relaxing in the alley beside the bakery, dragging on a blunt, when he was startled by the door slamming open beside him.

“Jives? Jives, where are you?” barked Neil.  
Jives yelped and tossed the half-smoked blunt to the ground, crushing it under his foot. He only allowed himself a moment to lament the wasted weed before standing stick straight, attentive to his father.  
“R-Right here, dad!” He said with a sheepish smile.  
Neil crossed over to his son, arms folded, as he scrutinized his son’s reddened eyes and the odorous scent that encompassed him.  
“Smoking again, I see?” He asked.  
“What? Nooo…I mean, yes. I mean, please don’t be mad I was done with my job for the day and – “Jives fumbled.  
“I’m not mad, Jives. I just need to talk to you about it.” Neil said calmly.  
Jives’ shoulders untensed, and he nearly melted against the wall, realizing he wasn’t about to be chewed out for his ‘recreational activity’.  
“Uhh, sure? What’s the deal-o dad-o?” He asked awkwardly.  
Neil stepped closer.  
“This habit of yours. You know that you won’t be able to keep it up much longer, right?” He asked.  
“Oh most definitely sir, you are absolutely right. In fact, I was just thinking about quitting it this afternoon! You know, get everything cleaned up and straight and – “  
“ _Jives_.” Neil said firmly.  
Jives clammed up.  
“I’m not here to tell you to quit.” Neil said with a sigh.  
“You’re not?” asked Jives.  
“No.” said Neil. “I’m only here to request something of you. See, your sister will be coming in a few months and you can’t be smoking that junk around her. Scientists still don’t know what that stuff does to babies, and we want to keep her healthy, right? You think you could handle that?”  
Jives blinked, a little surprised at the request.  
“Uh, yeah, I mean sure! I mean, I was already planning to wean back on the stuff once she’s born.” He said earnestly.  
Neil smiled, and slapped his son on the back.  
“I’m glad to hear that. Good to hear you’re thinking ahead.” He said.

Jives, relieved, laughed until a thought crossed his head.  
“Wait, did you say ‘she’?” he asked.  
Neil nodded.  
“Yeah. Lila just got back from the doctor. They said she’s expecting a little girl. Hope you’re ready for a lot of pink things in the house.” Neil said with a hearty laugh, before returning to the kitchen.  
Jives, elated, fished out his cell phone and furiously began punching in a few numbers.  
“Penny? This is Jives. You owe me twenty bucks. I’m gonna have a baby sister!” He said with a wide grin, barely able to keep the spring out of his step.

\--

Robbie pulled one of the pins he held fast between his teeth as he stuck it into the piece of fabric, pinning it together with the pattern cut-out. One by one, he stuck more pins into the piece until the whole shape was pinned. Pulling out his scissors, he carefully cut around the ellipse shape, setting aside the cut-out pieces as he moved to the next pieces of fabric.

Robbie was already fairly meticulous when it came to sewing, but today he was trying to be especially careful.  
Mostly because he wanted this project to come out as perfect as possible, given how special it was.  
He glanced over the image on the pattern’s packet, squinting his eyes at the wiring that seemed to run across the outside lines of the wings.  
He frowned. The wire they called for were definitely not stable enough to keep the wings intact and flapping up in the air.  
He’d have to reinforce them with stronger and sturdier material, which meant more work for him.  
Tiredly, he sighed and strode towards the spools of steel wiring he had in the corner of his work room, his wings flapping and fluttering out of boredom as he walked. He’d neglected to go out for a flight today, thus his body felt tenser with energy than usual.  
The one downside to having his wings and full magic back, he supposed. Now he emulated a more typical faerie, thus he contained more pent-up nervous energy than usual. The driving need to be out in open spaces, out in the free and clean air was far more insistent now, something he considered more a curse than a blessing.  
Then again, if that was the trade off to having his wings back, Robbie supposed he could manage.  
He glanced back at them once again, watching the rainbows that spun from their scales, reflecting against the shimmery fabric laying on his work desk.  
Even now, he could stare at them for hours, just in wonder of them existing and in awe of their beauty.  
A smile now born on his face, Robbie turned back to his work, running the piece of fabric carefully through his machine, its whirring filling the room.  
He hummed a tune quietly to himself, starting him into a working trance, which was abruptly and soon interrupted by the popping flash of light.

Robbie jumped, nearly toppling forward onto his machine and, thankfully, not accidentally running a seam down the middle of the wing. He snapped his gaze around angrily, finally spotting the young boy that stood a few feet away from him, looking with a scrutinizing gaze at his camera.  
“W-What are you doing here?? Haven’t you heard of knocking?!” Robbie asked exasperatedly.  
Stingy frowned.  
“Well I didn’t think I needed to, given you left your door propped open.” He said, gesturing to the entryway.  
Robbie looked at the door, and sighed tiredly. Indeed, he left the door wide open. Mostly to settle his need to be outside through airing out his home.  
“Fair enough, I suppose. What can I do for you?” he asked wearily.  
“Oh, not much. I just had a _few_ questions for you. And perhaps another photo, given how blurry this one turned out.” Stingy said, grumbling about the photo.  
“Well, perhaps if you asked for permission first, it’d turn out better.” Robbie said, giving a low look to the boy.  
“Details, details.” Stingy said, waving away his concerns. “Alright, question number one: do all faeries get the same kind of wings? Like yours?” The young boy pulled out a notebook in preparation.  
Robbie sat back and shook his head.  
“No. Seelie faeries usually have wings like dragonflies or butterflies. Unseelie faeries get moth wings. Hybrids…well no one knows about them. I guess either a toss-up or a bit of both.”  
“I see. And you are?” Stingy asked, jotting down a few notes.  
“I guess I’d be considered a hybrid. My mom was a Seelie faerie, and my father was an Unseelie.” Robbie said.  
“Fascinating. And do faeries eat only sugar, right?” the boy asked.  
“You crazy? Of course not. Faeries like sugar, but they eat food just like mortals do. Most eat balanced diets.” Robbie said, screwing up his nose.  
“You only eat sugar though.” Stingy said, pointing at his kitchen.  
“I said most, didn’t I? Next question.” Said Robbie, waving off the boy’s comment.  
“Fine, fine. Is it true that faeries eat children?” Stingy said, pausing as he realized just what he’d asked the _faerie_ in the room. “Please tell me the answer is ‘no’.”  
“What is with these questions?? Of course not!” Robbie said, clearly offended.  
“Well, I just wanted to make sure I covered all my bases with this article and wanted to address some common misconceptions about faeries.” Stingy explained matter-of-factly.  
“Article? Article for what?” asked Robbie.

Stingy looked up proudly.  
“For the school paper, of course. They told me that _I_ could be the head reporter, star of the paper, if I could get an exclusive tell-all from you and Sportacus. Sportacus already answered my questions, so I just need your input.”  
Robbie rubbed the bridge of his nose exasperatedly.  
“Sportaflop answered your questions, huh?” He asked quietly.  
“Very willingly, I might add.” Stingy said pointedly.  
Robbie sighed.  
“Fine, what’s your next question?” He asked reluctantly.  
Stingy, clearing his throat, flipped through his notebook.  
“Do faeries really eat sugar plums?”  
“Some do. I don’t, because it’s just sugar on fruit.”  
“Do they know how to get to Never Land?”  
“Fictional location, Stinky.”  
“Do you work closely with fauns or is that just a film thing?”  
“Now you’re just messing with me.” Robbie said tiredly.  
“I’m not! These are questions culled from our reader base!” Stingy said, flipping his notebook around.  
“Uh huh. I’m guessing from kids like you?” Robbie asked.  
“Maybe?”  
Robbie sighed.  
“No, we don’t work with fauns. They keep to themselves and the centaurs.”

The questions were much like those for the next hour, Robbie growing increasingly tired and impatient with the semi-tasteless and very stereotypical questions the boy was asking. By the time the hour was up and Stingy was carefully reading through his notes, Robbie’s face was buried in his hands, his wings drooping at his sides.  
“Well, I think this’ll suffice. This should be quite the article.” Stingy said in a pleased tone.  
“Wonderfully. I’ll make sure not to read it.” Robbie mumbled.  
“Well, I’ll see myself out. Oh, by the way, Sportacus asked me to give you this.” He said, handing the faerie a slip of paper.  
Robbie shot a look to the boy.  
“And you couldn’t have given me this an hour ago??” He asked.  
“Well clearly you wouldn’t have answered my questions if I did that, would you?” asked Stingy pointedly, before turning and walking out the door.  
Robbie opened his mouth to retort the boy’s statement, until his response died in his throat. He grumbled. The boy was right, he probably wouldn’t have if he’d been given the note first.  
Sighing, Robbie picked up the note and unfolded it, immediately recognizing the chicken scratch that made up the witch’s handwriting.

“ _Robbie,_

_Meet me by 8 th Street at 10 tonight. _

_Bring a coat, it might be chilly tonight_

_-Sportacus <3_”

A smile crossed Robbie’s face as his cheeks burned a bright pink. He set aside the note and glanced back at the kitchen, eying the bouquet that sat in the sink. He hoped Sportacus would like the little surprise he’d planned for him.  
In the meantime, Robbie turned back to his project, humming his little tune once more as he stitched the seam around the wings, preparing for the shoulder straps which, he’d hoped, would be small enough for its wearer.

\--

For the first time in what seemed like a long time, things were quiet and peaceful.

And no one was more thankful for that than Circe.

Mainly because she’d fallen _way_ behind her napping and sunbathing, and given how close the summer was to ending, she’d have to take advantage of all the warm, sunny days she could get.

Hanging out on the roof of a random building, she sprawled herself out on the warmed tiles, purring contently and blinking her eyes lazily at the warm and bright beams of sunlight. She rolled around on the roof, letting her jet-black fur grow dusty and dirty. Sure, the cleaning would be a pain, but for whatever reason it was a satisfying action. She assumed that was the cat part of her talking. Meanwhile, the remaining faerie part of her beckoned her up towards the clouds to taste the fresh air and play with the birds.

Alas, a day can’t be completely perfect, but Circe figured she’d long come to terms with her lack of flying abilities. Cat naps could be a pretty good replacement in her mind.

As she sleepily opened her eyes, she slowly waved a paw at Sportacus, who was flying through the sky with Pixel as his passenger.  
“ _Ah, good. He got that broom to cooperate. Still can’t believe he chose black walnut for the wood; those trees are notoriously stubborn_.” She thought to herself, licking at her paw.  
Her tail twitched side to side, a noise far off catching her attention.  
She screwed her nose and stretched herself out again. Out of all the instincts she had to repress, the hunting instinct was the most obnoxious. How could normal cats live with such a pervasive sense and need to catch anything that moved? It was tiring enough to deal with.  
Oh well. Circe yawned and let her eyes flutter shut. She had clocked in five naps today, and she was set on getting in a sixth before the day was up. She was only thankful that Sportacus had given her the day off from flying. Impossible to nap on that blasted broom.  
Purring softly, Circe let herself nod off to sleep, dreaming again of the forest filled with glowing mushrooms and dark vines that hid shadowy caves. The groves around her home; she still remembered them well.

…

“Well hey there, Miss Pretty Kitty. What’s a fine lady like yourself doing on a fine day like today?”  
Circe screwed her eyes shut tighter, trying to will away the voice of the unwelcome intruder.  
“Ah come on. I know you can hear me. Please, let us get better acquainted. It’d be a crime for me not to get your name.”  
Circe let out a low growl, her ears flattening back against her head as she rolled back onto her stomach. Opening her eyes, she shot a glare to the stranger who’d interrupted her nap.  
The tom cat was one that she’d yet to meet and, while she’d met a few of the local cats, Circe chose to not interact with them. Mostly because there weren’t any other faeries-turned-cats to talk and relate to, but also because she found it difficult to relate to natural felines. She also didn’t like how nosy the tom cats could be, and how frustratingly insistent they could get. They were also notoriously dumb, but perhaps it was just the male cats in LazyTown.  
This cat was fluffy. SUPER fluffy. Most likely a Persian or some mix with one given the long fur and flattened nose. His fur was cream colored and, even with the fur, he looked on the chubby side. Cutting through the fur was a shining, golden color with a small, circular tag. The tom also bore a lop-sided, incredibly stupid grin that showed off his tiny, sharp teeth. His tail swished through the air expectantly.  
“Oh! How about I start? My name’s Herb, but you can call me…uh, Herb!” said Herb, standing proudly.  
Circe lowered her eyes.  
“Well you can call me annoyed, because that’s how I’m feeling right now. Now leave.” She grumbled, curling back up into a ball.  
Herb cocked his head to the side.  
“ ‘Annoyed’? Now ain’t that a strange name for a female like you! I’d’ve thought your owner would give ya a prettier name! Something like, um, ‘Rose’ or ‘Daisy’.”  
Circe shot a look at the tom.  
“What? You stupid – that’s not my name! I was trying to make you bug off!” She said angrily.  
“Oh! Well, then what’s your real name?” asked Herb.  
“If I tell you, will you please leave? I’m missing prime napping time.” Circe asked tiredly.  
“Sure!” said Herb.  
Circe sighed.  
“It’s Circe. Now please will you go?” Circe said, flopping her head back down onto the tiles and closing her eyes.

She tried to nap, but could feel the distinct feeling of eyes boring into her. Grumbling, she opened her eyes once more. Herb hadn’t moved an inch.  
“What? Did you already forget our agreement?” Circe asked.  
“N-No, it’s just…you have a super pretty name.” Herb said in awe.  
“Thanks. Now leave.”  
“Where’d you get it from?” Herb asked.  
Circe sighed exasperatedly.  
“I’ve just always been called that. Just like you’ve always been called Herb.”  
“Now that isn’t true.” Said Herb, slinking closer to Circe. “You see, my first owners called me ‘Caramel’. Then, my second ones called my ‘Gouda’. And only NOW, with my owner Debbie, am I called ‘Herb’! Neat huh?”  
“Riveting.” Circe mumbled.  
Herb plopped himself right down next to Circe, his fluffy fur laying uncomfortably against Circe’s.  
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a feline like you before. You seem like the sweetest and most lovely gal in the whole world.” Herb cooed.  
“Well, looks can be deceiving.” Circe retorted.  
“I know of a really nice garbage can off Third Street you know. Maybe, if you’re free that is, we could go on a stroll over there, dig through the good trash. Maybe I can find you a diamond collar in the pile…” Herb said.  
“Okay Herb, first off, no moron would throw away a perfectly intact, _diamond_ collar so that’s not even possible. Second,” said Circe, standing and sighing. “look, you seem nice, but if you’re trying to say you’re interested, it won’t work.”  
“Well, why not?” asked Herb.  
“Because,” said Circe, biting her lip thoughtfully. “I’m not technically a cat. I’m a faerie. An Unseelie faerie. And last I checked, faeries don’t date cats.”  
Herb gave her a look.  
“You sure don’t look like a faerie. The faeries in Debbie’s books are all human looking and have these big, pretty wings. Like a butterfly’s! And you sure look like a cat to me.”  
“Look, it’s complicated, okay? Point is, I can’t date you because we’re two different species and I have standards. Okay? Now please let me nap.” Circe said, walking a few feet away and laying back down.

“Well, I really don’t believe you. What then? You can’t prove to me that you’re a faerie without those wings.” Herb retorted with a frown.  
Circe cringed and, with a reignited flame, gave the tom a dangerous look.  
“Come closer, and I can prove how faerie I am.” She said coolly.  
Herb’s frown melted into a look of fear. He shook his head and took a step back.  
“Oh, don’t worry. Don’t you remember your owner’s books? Faeries have magic in their kisses, and so if I kiss your cheek, you’ll feel a tingle of magic. Then you’ll either know I’m a faerie, or not a faerie. Doesn’t that sound great?” She said sweetly.  
Herb’s interest was sparked once more, and he took a tentative step forward.  
“W-Well, how will I know if I feel magic? What does magic feel like?” He asked.  
“Think of it like static electricity. That’s how it’ll feel.” Circe said with a smile.  
“Oh. So not that pleasant?” Herb said, scrunching his nose.  
“But isn’t it worth it?” Circe said with a smirk.  
Herb’s fur fluffed, and his stupid smile returned. He trotted over with a giddy giggle, and stood awaiting his longed for kiss from such a lovely kitty.  
Circe’s smile vanished as she leaned in, her eyes widening. A brief flash of blue coursed past her eyes and down her whiskers, before arcing straight into Herb’s face. The tom yelped and leapt backwards, the mild yet still uncomfortable shock forcing his fur straight up and out, making him look like he’d stuck his tongue in an electrical outlet. He sizzled slightly, his eyes open wide and a thin trail of smoke rose from his singed fur.  
“And if you’d have read your owner’s books carefully, you’d also know that faeries are notoriously tricky, and hate being messed with.” Circe said with a frown.  
“Y-You know, you could’ve just said no.” Herb mumbled, still stunned.  
“Something told me you wouldn’t listen, or take the hint.” Circe said with a glare, turning and walking away.

Well, so much for that napping spot. Circe leapt over to the next rooftop, leaving the singed tom behind her, who stumbled away and off the roof, back down into the alleyway. Circe didn’t give him another thought, but still felt hurt at his comment. She glanced back at her shoulder blades, hoping for a moment to see her old wings fluttering behind her. But no. Her shoulders were bare, as they’d always be.  
She sighed, deciding to distract herself by thinking of a new sunbathing spot.  
“Hey! Circe! I know you’re up there! Get down here!” cried a voice she quickly recognized as Robbie’s.  
Frowning, she responded with a meow and made her way down to the alleyway, pointedly ignoring Herb.  
The faerie was standing at the entrance of the alley, his wings shining in the sunlight. In his hands was a paper bag filled with tissue paper, hiding its contents.  
Circe looked at the faerie expectantly.  
“Look, I just wanted to, uh, thank you. You know, for helping me with my family stuff and what happened in my court.” Robbie said.  
Circe, genuinely surprised, responded with a chirp and a purr.  
Robbie rolled his eyes.  
“Right. Would be nice if you talked in the waking world too though. Looks pretty stupid, me talking to a cat.”  
Circe frowned and uttered a low growl.  
“Hey, sorry. Shouldn’t have said that, especially since I came to give you this.” Robbie said, laying down the bag.  
Circe, interested piqued, quickly knocked over the bag and began digging out the tissue paper, tossing it to the side.  
“I know they won’t compare to your…your true wings. But I figured they’d at least be a decent substitute.” Robbie explained.  
Circe stopped as soon as she saw Robbie’s present.  
Inside the bag, sewn from shimmering, iridescent fabric, were a pair of cloth wings. They sparkled in the bag, and were sewn to a harness that seemed just her size. Sure, the shape was more like a butterfly’s than her old moth wings, but _still_. They were wings, and they were gorgeous.  
With eyes wide, Circe looked up at the man.  
“I can help you get them on. And they should be able to support you. You know, if you enchant them and all.” Robbie said, pulling the wings out.

Circe stood still, purring as loud as a motorboat, as Robbie helped her slip into the straps and he tightened them around where her legs met her body. She wiggled them experimentally, feeling the wings flop side to side with each movement. They were clearly detached from her body, but at least they weren’t heavy. Actually, they were pretty light, yet they seemed sturdy.  
Stepping back, Robbie gave a small smile.  
“Go ahead. Give them a try.”  
Circe, looking nervously back at her new wings, let thoughts of birds and butterflies fill her mind. She directed those thoughts back to her wings, trails of blue rolling down and igniting the spots on her hackles. From there, the wings took on a faint, blue glow, small sparks leaping from their surface.  
Gasping in awe, Circe nodded and quietly muttered one word.  
“Flap.”  
And right on her cue, the wings began to flutter and flap, and soon Circe felt her paws lift off the ground. She flew up higher and, soon, was hovering at Robbie’s head height, her own eyes looking straight into his.  
He seemed just as pleased, judging from his grin.  
“So? What do you think?” He asked.  
Even if she could speak, Circe found herself at a loss for words. She was just so excited, so enthralled, and so thankful. A few tears pricked the edges of her eyes, and her purring only grew louder. Unable to convey her thanks in any other way, she flew forward and rubbed her cheek against Robbie’s, purring even louder.  
“O-Oh, hey! A-ah, okay, okay got it! You’re welcome! Alright! S-Stop! That’s enough!” Robbie said with a laugh, feebly pushing away the feline.  
Circe, finally flying back, gave Robbie one last meow before her eyes directed up towards the sky. With a grin, she directed her wings to flap faster, and she sped straight upwards, right towards the clouds.  
Robbie, from the ground, watched proudly.  
Herb, meanwhile, stared in awe.  
“Good lord, she _was_ telling the truth.” He said in a near whisper, before toddling away.

\--

As Obtuse’s patrol car pulled up along the side of the road, Trixie gave one glance at the bag she carried with herself. She unzipped the zipper slightly, peeking inside, making sure she’d grabbed everything she’d need. Even when she’d confirmed that she’d had, she still felt unsure. Though who knows, that could be just her hesitancy to leave. She’d been okay with this idea before, but now that the day had arrived? She was getting cold feet, though she isn’t sure anyone _wouldn’t_ feel like that given her situation.

“Do you have all of your things, Ms. Troubleby?” asked Officer Obtuse patiently.  
Trixie looked behind her, searching her surroundings intently. Hadn’t her friends agreed to meet her at the road before she left? They were several minutes late, and she couldn’t see them in the horizon. Perhaps they’d forgotten.  
Sighing, Trixie gave a resigned nod.  
“I guess so – “  
“Wait! Trixie!”  
The sound of the other voice caused both Obtuse and Trixie’s heads to swivel to the side, a wide grin appearing on Trixie’s face.  
The distinctive pink bob of Stephanie’s was the first thing Trixie spotted, before being joined by the running forms of Ziggy, Stingy, and Pixel. All were waving their arms frantically, cards and other notes clutched in their hands.  
Stephanie was the first to reach Trixie, a slightly tired smile on her face.  
“You weren’t going to leave before we said goodbye, were you?” she asked.  
“N-No! Course not.” Trixie said, glancing back at Obtuse. “Though, I was worried you guys forgot.”  
“Forgot?? How could we forget about you?” asked Ziggy with wide eyes. He stuck out his card, slightly sticky and stained with lollipop residue. “I worked all night on your card! I wouldn’t want you to leave before I gave it to you!”  
Trixie took the card, glancing at the crude crayon drawings of herself, Ziggy, and Stingy playing on the playground, along with a message of “see you soon” written on the inside.  
“Thanks, Ziggy. Make sure you keep Stingy here in line, alright? Remember that I’m still the leader, even when I’m gone!” Trixie said with a grin as she hugged her friend.  
“Hey!” said Stingy, offended. “What makes you think _I’d_ name myself leader when you’re gone?”  
“Just a hunch.” Trixie shrugged. She looked at her friend. “I’ll miss you, Stingy.”  
Stingy at first pouted, looking defiant towards his own feelings, before finally melting, looking sadly at his friend.  
“I’ll…miss you too, Trixie. Be careful there, okay? A-And, make sure you wash the utensils before you use them! I hear those detention centers do a terrible job at cleaning the dishware!” Stingy said worriedly.  
Trixie rolled her eyes.  
“I’ll be careful.” She said, hugging her friend.

She then turned to Pixel, a more apologetic look crossing her face.  
“Hey, um, sorry again for destroying your engine. I know you worked super hard on it, and I was a real jerk for messing with it.” She said.  
Pixel smiled.  
“Eh, I can always build another one. I mean, it needs some work if it can get taken out with silly putty.” He said with a laugh.  
Trixie shrank back.  
“Still, I feel really bad.”  
“Hey, it’s okay.” Pixel said, hugging her. “All is good, right? I think you more than made up for what happened by helping me from that plane crash.”  
Trixie laughed.  
“Fine, I guess you’re right. We’re even now.” She said, hugging him back.  
Finally, Trixie turned to Stephanie, her cheeks turning pink.  
“Um, well I guess this goodbye. At least for a while.” Trixie said quietly.  
Stephanie nodded.  
“I’m really gonna miss you, Trixie.” Stephanie said sadly. She pulled out some paper from her purse. “But look! I got some stationery from Pixel’s moms’ shop! It has lions on it! Your favorite animal! A-And, I got some new pens, so even the writing will be in fun colors – “  
Trixie pulled Stephanie into a tight hug, interrupting the girl’s words.  
The rest of the sentence died on Stephanie’s tongue, and she slowly hugged her girlfriend back. She sniffled quietly.  
“Are you…crying?” asked Trixie.  
“N-No, I mean yes.” Stephanie said, wiping a tear from her eye.  
“Can’t believe you’re so attached already. We’ve been going out for, what, a week or two?” Trixie said teasingly.  
“You’re still going away for five months! That’s a long time!” Stephanie protested.  
Trixie smiled.  
“Yeah, but I am coming back. I’ll be back before you know it.” Trixie said, kissing the girl’s hand.  
Stephanie bit her lip before leaning forward, missing Trixie’s nose and kissing her on the lips.  
Trixie’s face burned a bright red, as did Stephanie’s.  
Stephanie cleared her throat.  
“Uh, sorry about that. I meant to kiss your nose.” She said sheepishly.  
“T-That’s perfectly fine. Something to remember when I’m at juvie, I guess.” Trixie said with a wobbly grin.  
Stephanie laughed awkwardly.

“We should get going, Ms. Troubleby.” Obtuse reminded her gently.  
Trixie pulled away with a sigh, stuffing the cards and notes into her bag. She gave her friends a smile before she hopped into the back of the police car. Obtuse revved the engine, and soon they were both off down the road away from LazyTown. Trixie gave one last look, waving at her friends, before she turned to look ahead, her thumbs rubbing on the paper of the cards.  
Her friends stood there for some time before slowly walking away.  
“Man, I’m really gonna miss Trixie. What are we going to do with the rest of the summer?” Ziggy asked sadly.  
“We could play with _my_ games. I mean, if you all agree to wash your hands every round.” Stingy suggested.  
The other kids made noises of disagreement.  
“Well, what’d you guys do when Trixie was around?” asked Pixel.  
“Mostly pulled pranks.” Said Ziggy, kicking a rock.  
“Which I’m thinking is never gonna happen again, given the festival.” Noted Stingy.  
Stephanie smiled.  
“Come on guys! We’ve got plenty of games we can play! Especially with the rainy season done, there’s lots of games we could try! I think Sportacus taught me one that’s like hopscotch!” said Stephanie enthusiastically.  
Pixel smiled. “That sounds like fun! Let’s try that!”  
“Before we do though,” Stingy said, tugging on Ziggy’s sleeve. “do you know why there’s that big bus parked right in front of your house?”  
“Huh?” asked Ziggy, turning on his heel. As soon as he spotted the bus, his eyes widened.

Stepping down the steps of the bus, dressed in army fatigues and carrying a hefty duffel bag, came a tall man. His blonde hair was cropped short and, despite his built figure, he had a slightly chubbier face. He looked about expectantly, stopping as soon as he’d turned towards the group.  
“DAD!” yelled Ziggy, tears streaming down his face, as he bolted right towards his father’s open arms.  
The kids watched as the soldier, now identified as Ziggy’s father, scooped him up into a tight hug, holding him close and ruffling his hair. A few more cries rang out from the house, and soon Miriam and her mother were hustling down the walkway, joining into a family group hug. They could hear Ziggy sob happily, his mother crying tears of joy as well.  
“Aww, that’s so sweet!” said Stephanie, her hands clasped together.  
“Yeah, but now we’re one person short for our game.” Huffed Stingy.  
Pixel, frowning, elbowed the boy in the ribs.

\--

The drive to get to the juvenile detention center takes about three hours round trip, so when Officer Obtuse returned to LazyTown, he was sufficiently tired and emotionally exhausted. He’d hoped during his tenure as a cop in LazyTown, he’d never have to drop off a child to the juvenile detention center, yet here he was.  
He stepped out of his cop car, and quickly spotted the figure hanging out by the lamppost, his eyes directed towards the horizon.  
Taking off his cap, Obtuse strolled towards the man and cleared his throat.  
Jackson’s eyes shot over towards the cop.  
“Oh. Good evening, Officer Obtuse.” He answered.  
“Evening, Mr. Troubleby.” Obtuse answered.  
“Just call me Jack, Officer Obtuse.”  
“Very well Jack.” Officer said with a nod.

The two stood together, staring at the horizon. Their attention was only broken momentarily as Robbie walked through their field of vision, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers, his wings sparkling in the evening sun.

“So, I guess…I hope she took everything well? Was she okay when you dropped her off?” asked Jackson.  
“Oh, uh I guess so. Better than most kids I’d say. She still seemed a bit overwhelmed.” Officer Obtuse said.  
“I could only imagine.” Mumbled Jackson, taking a drag from his cigarette. He held out his carton to the police officer.  
Nodding, Obtuse took a single cigarette and perched it between his lips, lighting it. He took a long puff of the cigarette, sighing at the relaxing effects of the nicotine.  
“I’m, um, really sorry about all of this, Jackson. I tried my hardest to defend Trixie and try to reduce her sentence, but five months was as low as I could get it.” Officer Obtuse said.  
“It’s alright, Obtuse.”  
“Just call me Oliver, Jack.”  
“Ah, got it.” Nodded Jackson, blowing out a stream of smoke. “I was just saying that it’s okay. She may be a good kid, but what happened was definitely wrong. Unfortunately, this is what needed to happen.”  
Obtuse looked at the farmer.  
“Are you taking it okay though?”  
Jackson gave a weak smile and shook his head.  
“What do you think, Oliver? Would you be okay with your kid getting shipped off to juvenile detention, hours away from you?”  
“Point taken.” Said Obtuse. He took another puff of his cigarette, before his eyes drifted to the side. He clapped Jackson on the back, taking the man by surprise.  
“Tell you what, we’ve both had a hard and terrible day. There’s a bar off seventh street. My treat.” Said Obtuse with a smile.

“I don’t usually drink, but I think I’ll have to take you up on your offer.” Said Jackson with a smile, stamping out the remains of his cigarette.

Jackson adjusted the rainbow ribbon on his overalls before he strolled along with Officer Obtuse, towards the outer edges of town.

\--

The note said to meet him around ten that night, a time much later than Robbie expected.

He figured, given the witch’s usually early bedtime, meeting so close to ten would be a rarity at best.

But here he was, strolling down the street late at night. The lights of all the shops were darkened, their wares shrouded in the darkness of the empty rooms. A few lights were still on in the houses and apartments, but not terribly many. The only establishments that still held noise and light were a bar off seventh street and a movie theater near the center of town.

But for his meeting with Sportacus, Robbie found himself heading towards the outskirts of town, towards the sea of golden grasses that surrounded LazyTown.  
He adjusted his jacket, his wings fluttering in response. He crinkled his nose as he felt his wings brush against the roughly cut holes he’d torn in his jacket. Given his new wings, he had to make a few alterations to his clothing. Sure, his wings could fold back into his back, but he still needed to make room for them to emerge. So, one project he’d worked on was altering his clothes. This particular jacket was still in the middle of alterations and while it looked a little rough, it’d work for his date that night.  
Clutching the bouquet close to his chest, Robbie continued to stride along until he saw a familiar form hovering above the grasses.  
Sportacus, sitting on his broom, his legs dangling off the side, had his back turned towards Robbie. He seemed to be fiddling with something, and a few short notes piercing the still and quiet night air clued Robbie to what the witch was doing.  
“Planning to serenade me with your little flute music?” asked Robbie teasingly.  
Sportacus’s gaze shot to the faerie, his surprised expression quickly replaced with a warm smile.  
“Not quite, but that’s a good idea!” He said cheerily. “I’ll prepare that for next time.”  
“Well if it sounds anything like the notes I heard, I think I’ll pass.” Robbie said with a smirk.  
Sportacus frowned joking and put his hands on his hips.  
“Didn’t take you for a music snob.”  
“I’m not, I just know those few notes were a little on the shrill side.” Robbie said, fluttering up to the witch’s level.  
“You can’t judge me on my practice songs!” protested Sportacus.  
“Sure, ‘practice’. Whatever you want to call that.” Said Robbie with a smile.  
Sportacus crossed his arms and pouted jokingly.  
“You sure aren’t being nice tonight, Robbie.”  
“Nope, but you know I’m just teasing you.” Robbie said, seating himself next to the witch. He held out the bouquet to Sportacus, which he took with excitement.  
“Wow, flowers! Thanks, Robbie!”  
“No problem, I’d figure you’d want a snack while we’re out here.” Robbie said.  
Blushing sheepishly, Sportacus took one of the blossoms, a daisy, and popped it into his mouth. He hummed happily at the taste.  
“Mmm, tastes like honey.” He said with a smile.  
Robbie raised an eyebrow.  
“Really? Daisies taste like honey? What do the other flowers taste like then?”

Sportacus looked down thoughtfully, chewing on the flower stem as he glanced at the bouquet.  
“Well, violets, to me, taste kind of like what cotton candy smells like. Dogwood roses taste like apples, and lilies taste like a slightly more bitter lemon. Roses taste the same as they smell, and marigolds taste like butter.” Sportacus noted.  
“Huh. That’s kind of weird. I’d figure they all taste the same as they smell.” Robbie said.  
“Flowers are strange. You’d think that, but I guess elves have different taste buds, so we taste different flavors.” Sportacus said with a shrug, pulling out a violet and biting into the blossom.  
Robbie smirked and, scooching closer to the witch, he leaned against the witch’s side.  
“Well, as fun as it is to watch you eat flowers and discuss the intricacies of their flavors, something tells me you have something else you want to do too.” He said.  
Sportacus, smiling, snapped his fingers, and the bouquet vanished in a flash of blue light. He wrapped an arm around the faerie, being careful not to accidentally bump his wings.  
“You’re sort of right. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, and something I wanted to show you.” He said.  
“Oh? And what’s that?” asked Robbie.  
The faerie looked to his right and ended up looking right into the witch’s deep, ocean blue eyes. He gulped, his cheeks taking on a pink hue as he felt himself get lost in the blue.  
“Robbie, I’ve uh, been thinking about what you told me. About your court and what you’ve been worried about.” Sportacus said, drawing circles with his thumb across Robbie’s arm.  
“O-Oh?” said Robbie, nervously.  
“I just…I realized I forgot to say something that day.” Sportacus said quietly. “Just…if you _do_ have one of those days where you’re feeling scared or worried about us, that it’s okay to say so. And I just wanted to know what to do when and if that happens.”  
Robbie blinked, then nodded.  
“Oh, well, I guess just be there. I don’t think there’s much you can do.” He admitted, sighing. “This will just take some time. I’ll admit, I still feel a little nervous. Not about being here, but just thinking about the future.”  
“Me too.” Admitted Sportacus.  
Robbie looked confusedly at the witch.  
“Wait, why are you nervous?” He asked.  
“I mean, not for anything too bad,” said Sportacus. “just more for how new this all is. Thinking about us, I feel both excited and nervous. This is something very new, not just for us, but for…for elves and faeries.”  
Robbie’s eyes sunk down to his lap, his fingers nervously twiddling against his thigh.  
“I…I didn’t think about that. Faeries and elves don’t really fall in love. Never have. And now that the town knows about what we are, a neighboring court or other elves could hear about us. Oh gods, what could that mean…?”  
Sportacus, noticing how Robbie’s hand trembling, quickly held it in his.  
“Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together. Besides, it’s all just speculation. For all we know, nothing will happen. And we can grow old together.” He said with a smile.  
Robbie raised an eyebrow once more.  
“Grow old together? We’ve only been going out for a few weeks, and you’re already thinking about that?” he asked.  
Sportacus’s cheeks instantly grew a bright red.  
“Uh, I mean…”  
Robbie smirked.  
“Such a romantic, aren’t you?”  
Sportacus pulled his cap over his eyes and ducked his head.  
“That was _supposed_ to stay in my head…”

Robbie smiled and leaned forward, tilting Sportacus’s chin back up.  
“I think it’s cute, if you’re worried.” He said.  
Sportacus peeked out from under his cap.  
“Are you sure? It’s not weird?”  
“Maybe to some, but not me. I think it’s kind of naively cute.” He said with a smirk.  
“Oh gods…” mumbled Sportacus, pulling his cap back over his eyes.  
Robbie rolled his eyes.  
“Give me that.” He said, tugging the elf’s cap off his head, the goggles tumbling to the ground.  
“Robbie!” said Sportacus.  
“Why do you still wear this thing? Everyone knows you’re an elf now.” Robbie asked.  
“I, uh, don’t like brushing tangles out of my hair. If I fly with my hair loose, my hair gets all knotted and tangled by the end of the day.” Said Sportacus.  
Robbie nodded.  
“Makes sense. But you’re not flying now, are you?” He said.  
Sportacus smirked at the faerie.  
“You just like seeing my ears and hair, don’t you?” He asked.  
Robbie blushed, his smile vanishing.  
“Got you.” Teased Sportacus.  
“Shut up, elf.” Robbie grumbled, his cheeks burning red.  
Sportacus chuckled and snuggled closer, resting his head against the crook of Robbie’s shoulder.

The two sat together, watching as the moon rose higher up into the sky.

“So, what was the other reason for inviting me out here?” asked Robbie.  
“Oh!” said Sportacus, fishing his flute back out. “I, uh, thought I’d share one of my hobbies with you.”  
“Summoning the hidden spirits?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus’s eyes widened.  
“H-How’d you know?” he asked.  
“Uh, just a good guess? I don’t know, I saw you do this in a dream a while ago.” Robbie fumbled.  
“Oh? Was it a good dream?” asked Sportacus.  
Robbie thought back to that specific dream, the first time he realized he liked Sportacus. He also remembered the dead branches sprawling from under Sportacus’s cap, the burning orange sky, and the choking stench of smoke and ash.  
“Yes and no.” He answered.  
Sportacus played with the flute in his hands.  
“Well, since you know what this is for, perhaps you’d like to play the first song?” He suggested.  
Robbie’s face paled, and he looked at the flute nervously.  
“You know, in my dream I was able to play this thing, but not sure if that means I can in _real life_ …” He started.  
“Just give it a shot. Trust me, the spirits aren’t too picky.” Sportacus coaxed with a smile.  
Robbie blushed, and he took the flute.  
“You’re lucky you’re cute, Sportadork.” He mumbled, raising the flute to his lips.  
Blowing tentatively into the flute, Robbie started with a low, solemn tune. Occasionally, a more strangled or squeaky note would slip through, but for the most part the song was sweet, yet slightly melancholic. He felt Sportacus sink against him as he continued to play, switching the key of the song.  
Robbie only stopped once he felt something flutter by his ear. He turned, coming face to face with a tiny spirit, barely the size of a golf ball. It giggled and fluttered its awkwardly large bat wings, wiggling its fifteen toes before flying away, its ribbon-like tail swaying in the breeze. His eyes widened with surprise, his reaction stalled through startling.  
Sportacus, meanwhile, grinned happily.  
“See? I told you! Your song was good!” He said cheerily.  
Robbie smirked, breaking out of his daze.  
“Well, I knew it’d be good. Just have a song in my heart you know.” He said with an air of pride.  
Sportacus rolled his eyes and shook his head with a loving smile.

The two glanced down at the ground. Robbie passed the flute back to Sportacus, who began his own tune. Sportacus’s song directly contrasted Robbie’s, being more jaunty and upbeat, with only the barest hints of melancholy. The spirits spilled forth, popping up through the grasses with parasols, silk hats, horns, and elements that held fast between their ears. A giraffe-ox looking creature with eight eyes tromped ahead of the herd, his bowler cap barely keeping still atop the mound of fur on his head. The umbrella creature Robbie remembered from that night hopped along, its tongue still wagging out of its mouth eagerly. A snake-like fish creature slithered through the open air, hovering ten feet above the ground, its iridescent scales refracting the moonlight in silvery-blue beams of light. Tinier spirits, the size of mice but looking like elephants, trumpeted triumphantly with every step on their journey. The Japanese futon creature waddled past, still balancing the bucket on its head.  
The creature that Robbie barely remembered as Markrel paused in his stroll, peering up at the broom. He tipped his cap to Sportacus.  
“Ah, good evening Sportacus. Been some time since I’ve seen you.” He said with a polite smile.  
Sportacus stopped his flute playing to address the spirit.  
“It has! Sorry for that. I’ve been pretty busy lately. New town and all.”  
“Of course. You’re on your journey of discovery. I hope it’s been treating you well thus far?” asked Markrel.  
Sportacus smiled at Robbie.  
“I’d say so, Markrel.” He answered.  
Robbie blushed.  
“Say, where is your feline companion? Doesn’t she usually accompany you?” asked Markrel.  
“Check somewhere in the cloud layer. Last I saw her, she was doing loop-de-loops through the lower clouds.” Robbie answered quickly.  
Markrel nodded and made his way back with the herd.  
Sportacus, meanwhile, looked at Robbie with a confused expression.  
“What were you saying about Circe?”  
Robbie waved off his concerns.  
“I’ll tell you later. We have a night to enjoy, remember?” he said with a knowing smile.  
Sportacus gave a slow nod, turning his attention back down to the spirits. They had grown more numerous, with a whole family of horned, frog looking ones with flames above their heads leaping forth and through the grasses. Spirits shaped like bells chimed their tunes and whispered near inaudible words to Sportacus. Robbie assumed that whatever they whispered mustn’t have been very nice, given the reddened hue the witch’s cheeks obtained.  
“Shoo now, that’s very rude.” Sportacus said with an embarrassed frown.  
“Dare I ask?” said Robbie.  
“No, you really shouldn’t.” said Sportacus quietly, averting his eyes.  
Robbie chuckled.

As the spirits continued forth, both Sportacus and Robbie took turns playing songs until it seemed all the spirits had gathered to roam the streets of LazyTown. With their job done, they turned to each other with weary, but blissful, looks. Robbie scooched closer to his witch, gently running a thumb up and down the top of Sportacus’s hand. Sportacus looked warmly at the faerie, reaching up to gently brush away a stray hair from Robbie’s face, with Robbie leaning into the touch. Sportacus chuckled warmly, before leaning in and closing the gap with a kiss. Robbie returned the kiss, allowing his arms to wrap about Sportacus, the two pulling fast into a tight embrace. They only parted to take a breath and, looking into each other’s eyes, laugh out of pure happiness.  
“Hey Robbie, I realized I haven’t told you something yet.” Said Sportacus.  
“What’s that?” asked Robbie.  
Sportacus leaned closer, pressing his forehead to Robbie’s.  
“I love you.” Sportacus said.  
Robbie, blushing, looked at the witch with a small smile.  
“I love you too, Sportacus.” Robbie said quietly, before giving the witch another kiss.

The moon crawled up to its peak in the sky. Distantly, cicadas and owls could be heard conducting their nocturnal orchestra, mixing with the ambient sounds of branches creaking and leaves rustling in the low wind. In the town, the spirits took to the streets, playing their songs and conducting their business all to no suspicion or awareness of the slumbering townsfolk. Fireflies danced through the grasses and sparsely in the town. The stars glittered above, displaying their celestial masterpiece.

And finally, for the first time in forever it seemed, their world seemed quiet and at peace.

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, so many months later and 184,000+ words later, this story comes to an end. It's a little bittersweet, I'll admit, seeing this story finished. I hope you all enjoyed this, and were okay with the length lol. I hope that the ending was satisfying for everyone, and that you'll all come around for the next stuff I write! It might be a while, but I will write more to post here, with more stuff for our two boys to do :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and see you all in the next story!
> 
> -Mod Murdock

**Author's Note:**

> So some quick notes about this fanfiction:
> 
> This is AU was heavily inspired by the works of Hayao Miyazaki, most specifically Kiki's Delivery Service. That'll become more apparent by the next chapter, but it won't follow the exact plot of the movie. Some beats in the story will be from that movie, but for the most part I'll try and keep it different.
> 
> I'm also trying to take a more episodic approach to this story. I feel like I've begun to rush a lot of the chapters in my recent fanfictions, so I'm going to allow this story to take its time and breathe. Hopefully you guys will like this! I'm having fun writing it, though it will be a lot longer than my other fanfics (I just finished writing chapter 3 and it's already at around 22,000 words to give you an idea).
> 
> I also plan to update about once a week, roughly. Sorry if the next chapter takes a while, but I'll try to keep to that schedule which I hope to increase to twice a week by May.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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